


Tomorrow Never Knows

by Kotik



Series: Dawn Of The Federation [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Humor, Mildly Erotic Content, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:50:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 108,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kotik/pseuds/Kotik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the first story in a series that starts after the TV episode "Bound" and takes the timeline to an alternate universe from there. It will cover the Earth-Romulan war and the birth and the early years of the federation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Midnight Confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weeble](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=weeble), [aadarshinar](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aadarshinar), [WarpGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=WarpGirl).



> This story was written between 2009 and early 2013 and was first published on Triaxian Silk and ff.net under the title "Words", because it started out in life as a series of chapters written as contributions to various word challenges on Triaxian Silk. If you've read the story on either site, you'll probably be familiar with the overall plot. This publication contains various minor adjustments to remove inconsistencies in the original story. 
> 
> Although this story contains mildly erotic content it is safe to be read by young people, who know about the birds and the bees.

**1\. Midnight Confessions**

"Guess we proved it again," Trip mused, as they left sickbay.

"Proved what?"

"That you and I make a helluva team."

"We seem to work well together."

"Even more, now that we're in each others head."

There was one little detail about the bond that T'Pol had not disclosed earlier. While for him it was a series of sporadic daydreams that drew him into her white space, for her the bond was a much stronger connection. Since humans had latent, weak telepathic abilities at best and even that only in rare cases, the bond in its early stage was almost a one-way connection.

About a week before she had noticed sporadically erupting emotions, which seemingly came out of nowhere, but she soon noticed that their occurrence matched exactly the pattern of Commander Tucker's behavior. Whenever he had an emotional outburst or made his trademark jokes, T'Pol felt them herself, if they were strong enough. This had led to the realization that there was a connection between them and their history left only one candidate – a mating bond. It was soon time to explain him the full ramifications of this fact, before he returned to Columbia. As she heard him talk about being in each others head – a typically human, crude metaphor – she also noticed that he experienced a mix of positive emotions at the time, calming her fears, that the human would be afraid of the unusual connection.

"You're returning to Columbia?"

"I imagine Captain Hernandez is getting pretty antsy to have her Chief Engineer back."

T'Pol saw right through the statement, but was also surprised that she did pick up no trace of emotional response. He was either completely indifferent or kept his emotions in check, which she had not witnessed too often so far.

"There are still numerous repairs to be carried out here."

"I think Kelby can handle them. He's been observing my work pretty carefully, when he wasn't trying to blow up the ship. "

He still gave no indication of an emotional response and a suspicion formed in T'Pol's mind. He seemed to do what he had done so often – engaging in an argument to trick her into admitting something or telling him something in a way he wanted to hear it. A long time ago Ensign Sato had explained that this process was called 'teasing' and generally a sign of affection. Only humans would come up with a sign of affection that could become annoying. Obviously he used his arguments for his return to Columbia as a ruse for her to ask him to stay.

When Lt. Sato had explained about the custom of teasing, she had also mentioned that the humans often expected the 'favor to be returned'. That's why T'Pol had developed a certain competitiveness in their friendly banter. She was not willing to give him an easy win.

"Kelby is a fine engineer, but he lacks experience," she said and a short wave of annoyance washed through the bond, indicating that his emotional nature got the better of him and also validated her suspicion.

He stopped. "Why don't you just say it?"

"Say what?" she feigned ignorance and started to enjoy this, seeing his slight exasperation. Obviously, the Commander could not eat, what he dished out - as Ensign Sato used to say - at least not today.

"That you want me to come back."

"I believe I did," she answered with an innocently raised brow. "I believe that your presence here would be extremely beneficial to our operations."

"No, that **you** want me back," he pressed and annoyance resonated to the bond now very clear.

"I don't know what you mean," she lied and regretted it immediately. The mixture of hurt feelings, anger and sadness almost prompted a visible response and T'Pol knew instantly that she had gone too far. She might have gotten better at bantering, but she was still clumsy in her interactions with humans whenever she tried her hand at purely human ways of socializing. Again she had failed to stop before he was seriously inconvenienced.

"My mistake. See you around," he sighed in visual disappointment. And turned to go,

The only logical conclusion was to deliver, what he had wanted to hear to undo the damage she had inadvertently done. "Wait, Trip," she called, knowing that the rarely used nickname would make him at least listen. "I want you to come back," she admitted defeat.

"Then I'll think about it," he answered and turned to go again.

'Thinking about it' still left a 50% chance of the answer being 'No'. Suddenly that thought caused panic and fear of losing him again and there was not much time to react, so she decided to convey the message in an unmistakable manner – she had to show him why she wanted him to come back.

"Trip!" she called with more urgency, caught up with him and kissed him hard.

Nothing had prepared her for the onslaught of emotions that she picked up, now that they were in intense contact. Getting faint transmissions through the bond was one thing, now, due to the Vulcan's inherent touch telepathy, it was a torrent of conflicting emotions that hit her unprepared.

Love, desire, longing warred with sadness, hurt and anger in a most frightening intensity. But before she broke the kiss and struggled to regain her composure, she also noticed an undercurrent of mischief and satisfaction. Something was afoot.

He gently wiped along his lips. Trip smiled mischievously and explained the reason behind his satisfaction. "Three days ago, I told Captain Hernandez that I wanted a transfer back to Enterprise."

"Three days ago," she answered in barely suppressed indignation.

"I realized this is where I was meant to be, and this thing between us isn't that big a deal."

"Agreed." she answered, despite his obvious underestimation of the true ramifications of being bonded with a Vulcan.

"Guess we gotta lot of work to do," he quipped before disappearing around the corner.

T'Pol walked to her quarters with a still very elevated eye-brow. Finally she had admitted the existence of the bond to the ship's Chief Engineer and although the latest round of banter had resulted in a crushing defeat and almost with bad consequences, she was relieved that she had Trip back. The thought of his permanent departure had unsettled her for the last two weeks already and she was almost gratified for the Klingon's sabotage that caused his return. Quickly she pushed that thought down – it was illogical.

=/\=

With just minutes to go until midnight, Trip came home after a long day in engineering. Grimy, the uniform covered in scorch marks from exploding EPS conduits, he dragged his exhausted body into his cabin, making a bee line for the shower to get rid of the muck.

_I cannot believe she did that. Admitting that she wants me back was big enough a surprise, but planting a wet one on me – in a wide open corridor of all places... Dear god let it be serious this time, I can't take another push and I can't even transfer away this time. Not after the stunt with Columbia._

He had not have the time to process today's events due to the carnage in engineering, but now the thoughts kept coming despite his fatigue. After cleaning himself, he wrapped a towel around his waist and went back in search of his sweatpants, but he was interrupted by the door chime. At this late an hour it could only be Jon with an invitation to one of the rare late-night live broadcasts of water polo. But – unexpectedly – it was not his friend, who made a house call in the middle of the night.

"Good evening. I may have come at an inconvenient time..." T'Pol stopped when she saw his wardrobe situation.

"Don't worry, it's not like you haven't seen everything anyways," he answered and waved her to come in.

"Indeed," she returned and noticed that he had put on considerable muscle mass since their first - and so far last - disrobed encounter.

"What brings you here and what's in that bag?" Trip asked casually and without any sign of shyness dropped the towel to put on his pants.

T'Pol distracted herself from the urge to intensify her visual scan by picking up his uniform and other pieces of clothing that he had dropped where they fell on his way to the shower.

"Resulting from recent events and findings, I believe it to be necessary to discuss something with you. The purpose of the bag will be explained in the process," she explained, once Trip had put on his pants.

"I'm dead tired," he said. "But I think you're right, best we talk some things out."

Indicating her to do so as well, he sat down on the bunk and waited for what she had to say.

"Based on my actions of today you most likely have come to the conclusion, that my interest in your return to Enterprise is not entirely motivated by professional reasons."

"Sure looked and felt like it," he said with a smile.

"There is a number of events that caused my actions and I wish to confess my motives. This takes a considerable amount of time, therefore I shall not be offended if you ask me to defer it until you had sufficient rest."

"Don't worry about my rest, T'Pol. I've waited for almost two years for you to tell me, what the hell is going on between us - or not for that matter. I'll stay awake even if it takes a week."

"Very well," T'Pol nodded and continued her narration. "Do you remember what happened when I was exposed to Trellium-D on the Seleya?"

"Sure as hell do. You completely lost it and ever since then you had that occasional emotional outburst. In fact for quite a while I was afraid it had left some permanent damage."

"You are most perceptive. In fact it has left damage, but not like you expect."

Trip's eyes went wide. "Is it bad?"

"Please hear the complete explanation," she continued and Trip nodded. "When the aftereffects of my Trellium-D exposure started to subside and only a mild influence was still left, I noticed that I could experience certain emotions, which are usually instinctively suppressed. Those were fascination, amusement, but also fear and anger."

Trip got a bad feeling but refrained from interrupting. He knew T'Pol good enough to see that she was talking about some things that weighed heavily on her.

"I wanted more of those emotions. I noticed that I fared better in my interactions with the crew – especially with you – and I hoped to become able to reciprocate the outward signs of affection that you displayed. So I began injecting micro doses of Trellium-D into my blood stream and that allowed me to access emotions at any time. Unfortunately I had not considered the possibility of becoming addicted."

Trip buried his face in his palms and sighed heavily. When he looked back up, he saw that T'Pol had, what must be the Vulcan equivalent of the deer-in-head-lights look. Her shame and the fear of him sending her away was palpable.

"Do you still do it?" he asked as calm as he could in his shocked state.

"No. After I was almost killed during an attempt to reach the Trellium-D storage in the cargo bay on the damaged ship, I went to Dr. Phlox and sought medical help to overcome the addiction. The therapy was successful, however my ill-advised actions have caused permanent damage to my neuro-pathways.

"You messed up your own body to get close to me? Hell, we were closer than any other two people on the ship. Way before the Seleya, you had taken over from Jon as my best friend."

"I think we both know that it wasn't a best friend we were hoping to be."

"We?" Trips eyes went wide. "T'Pol you kept pushing me away again and again. Hell you even married another guy. I know it was for your mother, but you never thought it necessary to tell me that he released you – I learned about that from Jon. I don't get it, why did you shut me out?"

Trip regretted his little outburst almost immediately as he was presented a sight that was new to him – tears. She wasn't all-out bawling, but two silent tears running down the face of a Vulcan were unsettling enough a picture.

"Sorry," Trip whispered.

"You have every right to be displeased," T'Pol started in a small voice. "As I explained earlier, I did not only experience favorable emotions. Due to the damage that I had inflicted, I was no longer able to suppress all emotions. I was unable to deal with them. I was confused and scared. Those unsettling emotions and my inability to make sense of them was the driving force behind the many wrong decisions I made in connection with you."

"What changed? Looks to me that you finally smelled the cordite and decided to 'fess up."

T'Pol, momentarily confused by his strange metaphor, after all cordite was known to have no smell, continued. "The first important event was, when I spoke to my counterpart on the Enterprise from the other time line."

"Wait-a-minute, you talked to... yourself? Why didn't you or Lorian tell me that you …she ...the other you was still alive?"

"She asked the Captain not to tell you. She was afraid of seeing you again and then losing you a second time."

Trip gulped and – a very rare event – was speechless.

"She explained to me that you were the key to mastering those emotions. When I was prepared to make the final step, we were on Vulcan, but I spare you the pain of reminding you in detail of the events. You were there."

"Roger that," Trip sighed.

"The grief about the death of my mother and the shame of having caused so much pain and suffering for you by marrying Koss, prevented me from getting closer to you after he released me. Once you left for Challenger, I realized, that the pain of losing your constant presence and losing the chance to be with you was exceedingly less bearable than any shame, fear or confusion."

"So you finally decided, that it is better to talk to me rather than watching me jump ship again."

"This conclusion is warranted. Until now I tried to deny my affection and my wish to be close to you for mostly wrong reasons. I decided that it is not practicable to continue that self-deception, as it is completely without logic."

"Did you just say what I think you did?"

She looked him into the eyes. "Trip..., I know human customs would now demand the sentence 'I love you' to be spoken, but I cannot speak about something that I do not yet entirely understand. What I do understand is that I have a deep affection for you, an affection I've never had for anyone else. Imagining my life without you is beyond my mental capabil..."

She was cut short by a hot, passionate kiss. "You know what? You just translated 'I love you' from human to Vulcan and God be my witness, I love you, too."

Both fell into an embrace and for a long time they didn't say a word, quietly relaxing in each others closeness, ridding themselves of the sadness, caused by months of rejection and unrequited longing.

"So what about that bag 'o yours?" he asked after the long break.

"It contains clothing and items of personal hygiene for the case that you would allow me to spend the night with you," she explained warily.

"Wow, you're upping the pace quite a bit," Trip wondered with a grin for the ages.

"If it inconveniences you..."

"Are you kidding me? I've been dreaming about falling asleep with you in my arms ever since we..., well for a long time already."

"In this case I shall be honored to make your dream a reality."

"After all this time, I cannot tell you how happy I am," he sighed and a tear of joy dropped slowly down his cheek.

"You don't need to tell me, I share your emotions."

"Ah right, you're in my head now," he chuckled.

"That is the second topic we need to discuss, but beforehand I shall prepare for the night."

When T'Pol disappeared into the bathroom, Trip let out a happy sigh. Finally she had given up her reluctance to admit the obvious. Inwardly he marveled at her straight approach. Usually she would have danced around the topic or drowned it in Vulcanese stilt speak – not tonight. It was less than a day from learning about the bond to the first night spent together in one bunk - incredible.

=/\=

He was still sitting on the bunk, when T'Pol returned from the bathroom and Trip forgot to breathe. She wore white panties - definitely not of Vulcan origin – and nothing else. The sight of his Vulcan dream girl in nothing but skimpy panties blew up a couple more conduits, this time in his head rather than engineering.

"Congruency," she remarked dryly and pointed at his bare chest.

"There's something to be said for being in love with the Science Officer," he chuckled after he regained the capability of coherent thought.

They had just laid down, when the door chime announced another late night visitor. Both scrambled to cover their upper halves with two of Trips T-Shirts before they returned to the bunk and sat down. T'Pol shoved her legs under the blanket. Parading herself in skimpy panties for anyone but Trip was not an option.

"You ok with this?" Trip whispered.

"It is less indignant to be... caught like this, rather than being discovered by a biosign scan, which will most likely be done if we ignore hails. The crew will notice, one way or the other," T'Pol analyzed.

Nodding, Trip announced his permission to enter and the door revealed the visitor to be Captain Archer, who stopped dead in his tracks.

"I know those pheromones have side effects, but I thought you two were immune," he wondered wide-eyed.

"We are, Cap'n."

"Hm, I could swear I see my First officer and my Chief Engineer both in one of his shirts, sitting on his bed. When did this happen?"

"Well, 30 minutes ago and pheromones had nothing to do with it. Don't get it the wrong way, Cap'n. Unless the ship's blowing up... I think T'Pol's a bit uneasy with the situation. So, if you wouldn't mind... I promise I'll give you the heads up about everything."

"Ok, ok, Trip, I'll get lost," Archer said with a smile and excused himself, wishing them a good night. Seeing that Trip had a somewhat more attractive option at hand than watching a late-night water-polo broadcast, he benevolently admitted defeat.

"Well, looks like we're doing this top-down," Trip sighed after the door closed behind the Captain.

"I had the distinct impression that you preferred top off," T'Pol deadpanned and got rid of the T-Shirt again.

"Cap'n was right, some of my sense of humor is definitely rubbing off on you," Trip laughed and followed her example. "So what was the second thing you wanted to talk about?"

She indicated him to lay down and snuggled up to him. "I wish to speak with you about the bond. It is imperative that you have sufficient information to make your decision."

"Ok..."

"The decision to bond is a decision for a life time. Being bonded amounts to what Earth considers a legal marriage. Unlike on Earth however, the option of a divorce is not available."

"So you mean to say we're married?"

"I haven't completed my explanation yet. Our bond is still in its infancy. To make it easier for you to understand, you could compare it with the human custom of becoming engaged. Over the time due to intimate contact and consummation of the bond, it strengthens and becomes increasingly harder to break. Once the bond is completed, it can not be severed without putting both mates in terminal danger."

"So if I get it right... We're engaged and whenever we touch or when we consummate... what does that mean?"

"It means that we mate."

Trip groaned. "We don't... mate! Do me a favor please, don't use that word. We use that term when animals do the deed and we're no animals. So whenever we make love the bond gets stronger and once it is strong enough you'll be my wife and we'd die if we try to divorce, right?"

"In essence, yes."

"Great!" he beamed. "If I weren't that tired, I'd probably start right away, so we'd be undivorceably married by the morning. But seriously, T'Pol, did you really think that I would want to break that bond? Forget it, and once I'm not so tired, I promise to show you just how much I want to strengthen it."

"I'm gratified to hear that. I do admit that I was afraid that you would consider severing the bond," she said and when she saw his shocked face, added "for approximately 1.25 seconds," sending him into a fit of laughter.

"You are something else, darlin'!"

Just 2.5 earth minutes later she noticed that he had fallen asleep. Resting her head on his muscular chest she soon drifted into sleep herself.

=/\=

Trip woke up with a happy sigh. For the second time in a row he woke up with the sweet sensation of a pointy ear on his chest.

The day after her late night confession, which resulted in spending the night together, saw Trip floating in the air. Sporting an almost idiotic grin, he had happily worked himself to shreds before turning in for the night – in T'Pol's quarters.

"Good morning."

"Morning T'Pol," he answered and stole a kiss.

"You shall inform the Captain soon about us, you gave him a promise to do so."

"Actually that's why you'll need to have breakfast alone today. I tried to get hold of him yesterday, but he was busy with calling just about every Admiral there is and he invited me to discuss it over breakfast today."

"Very well. I shall use the time before the shift to make some preparations myself."

=/\=

"So, Trip. Is that a temporary arrangement or do I dial T'Pol's quarters if I need to call one of you?" Archer asked, once the Steward had left.

"Depends on whether I'm talking to Jon or to Captain Jonathan Archer," Trip answered a bit unsure.

"Both would be equally happy for both of you, Trip."

"Well, in that case it's damn permanent," Trip enthused.

"So, what happened?"

"Well, I'm gonna say it right away, Jon, I'm not going to tell you all. There's some things that Vulcans do absolutely not talk about outside family and I'm not going to betray T'Pol's trust. You ok with that?"

"If it doesn't interfere with your duties, you're not obliged to tell me anything."

"Nothing of that sort, don't worry. Well actually, you know yourself how she was growing on me. Due to that neuropressure stuff we got pretty close and, well, I fell in love with her, although I only really realized it, when she told me that she's gonna marry that Koss fella."

"I never understood how you got over that."

"I almost didn't," Trip explained with a chagrined face expression. "When I came back, there was still a good week to go before you and T'Pol returned. I spent quite a bit of that time being wasted outta my skull."

"Ouch!"

"Tell me about it," Trip sighed. "But when she came back, I knew she needed a friend and not a self pitying, drunk almost-lover. That actually got me straightened out again in a damn hurry."

"Damn, someone sold both you and T'Pol a rotten year. That mockery of a marriage, the death of her mother..."

"Yep. And we both took quite an emotional beating in the process. In the end I couldn't stand it any longer, I just couldn't be so close yet so far anymore. That's when I ran off to Columbia."

"Thought that was something like that. I first thought about denying your transfer, but when I realized that you were desperate enough to abandon your engines, I also knew it would be torturing you to stay on the ship."

"Amen to that. But actually that's what got T'Pol to smell the cordite. When I was gone, she realized that the situation was … uh, not agreeable," Trip smiled.

"You have no idea," Archer laughed. "The most heard phrase in those few weeks was 'as Commander Tucker would say'. She quoted you at least 20 times a day and didn't even realize it."

"I can imagine," Trip joined the laughter. "Anyways. Once I was back, she was changed. It took some work, but finally she 'fessed up. That was the night when you walked in on us."

"So, how are you going to handle the crew?"

"Actually Hoshi had it all riddled out before we did ourselves, so T'Pol just gave her permission to throw it to the rumor mill. That spares us a public announcement," Trip smirked. "No need to keep it a secret, only those parts that Vulcans don't talk about. What about Starfleet?"

"I talked with Forrest after the Xindi mission. He gave me permission to waive the no-frat rules on a case-by-case basis. Now that missions last years, it's just not possible to uphold them completely."

"Good on them," Trip grinned. "Gotta run, shift starts in 5."

"Congrats to you both," Archer smiled back.

As soon as Trip was gone, Archer stepped out on the bridge.

"Travis, take us to the nearest M class planet."

"Aye, Sir."

"Hoshi, go down to science and bring Crewman Fuller to my ready room. Make sure T'Pol doesn't notice. She's scheduled to work down there for the next 2 hours, so try to avoid the astrophysics lab."

"Aye, Sir," Hoshi answered with a wide grin.

=/\=

The trip had taken two days and the blue-greenish contours of a Minshara class planet got bigger and bigger on the screen.

"T'Pol?" the Captain asked.

"Several sentient life forms, mainly small mammals," T'Pol reported. "The atmosphere contains 50% nitrogen, 30% oxygen, 10% carbon dioxide and 10% other, mainly inert gases. No signs of spores or other contamination. I would however recommend to store EV suits in the shuttle pod as a precaution."

"OK, you and Trip go down there and have a look. Maybe it would be suitable for shore leave."

"Aye, Sir," Trip and T'Pol answered in unison and walked into the turbo lift.

"Archer to engineering, Lt. Hess, status?"

"Engineering to bridge, we're ready," Anna replied.

"Ok, report with your team to the quarter master and go ahead," Archer ordered with a boyish grin.

"Aye, sir."

=/\=

"Calm down, Trip," T'Pol pleaded.

"I'm trying, darlin', but I sure hope that Jon has a good reason for sending us down an entire day prodding plants and watching long legged rats," Trip grumbled. "Engineering is still a mess and he sends me down to collect leaves."

"I am sure he had his reasons," T'Pol answered and took his hand. Although they were in public view, direct contact was the only option left, to calm down this particularly irritated human.

"Sorry darlin'," Trip sighed in a low voice. "I just don't like to waste time. Now if there'd been a beach..."

"We did not bring any swimwear... And I cannot swim."

"Darlin', we were the only ones on a whole planet, other than a few rats with too long legs. Do ya really think we would have needed any swimsuits?" he laughed. "And besides, that would have been a perfect time to give you some swimming lessons." 

"Indeed," she countered, relishing the wave of sexual greed that resonated in the bond.

=/\=

"JESUS CHRIST ON A POGO STICK!"

T'Pol mentally filed away to ask him, why a mythological figure would engage in an undignified and ineffective mode of transport, before she realized what had prompted her mate's outburst.

As they entered her quarters, both saw that it wasn't quite in the state they had left it in. The space had doubled and her bunk had disappeared. Where it had been, now stood a king-size double bed. Neatly outlined were both her and Trip's belongings.

"Guess, Crewman Fuller now lives on E-deck," Trip managed to mutter.

"I suppose that we don't need to wonder any longer about Captain Archers motives to send us away for the duration of an entire day," T'Pol added and embraced her man.

"That can only be Anna's work," Trip analyzed.

"It would be logical to assume that Engineering was part of that scheme."

"I know, but she's been working on it personally. Look here," Trip pointed. "Knocking out the bulkhead could be anybodies work, but no one welds like that, except Anna. Hell, she makes me look like a bloody beginner on any day."

"She has always held you in high regard, as does your entire department," T'Pol replied and noticed a big table. "It appears that Chef was part of the task force as well."

"Candle light dinner for two," Trip sniggered. "Guess we better start or I'll get completely mushy and start to cry."

"Only humans would associate the same emotional response to distress and joy," T'Pol answered, mimicking her long gone style that Trip used to call 'stick up the ass' in the early years of their mission. The undercurrent of teasing in her voice told him that she had made quite some progress in her studies of human socializing.


	2. Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip displays formerly unknown language skills, while T'Pol takes lessons from Hoshi.

## 2\. Sparks

_"Еб твою мать, блин!"_

Nobody, except Ensign Sato, could make any sense of Commander Tucker's latest outburst, when he ran off the bridge, so naturally all eyes were fixed on Hoshi with an unspoken request to explain.

"You don't wanna know," Hoshi answered the glances. Captain Archer had a sense of déja-vu.

A slight shudder of the ship made the bridge crew aware of the fact that Enterprise had unexpectedly dropped out of warp and turned their attention away from Trip's new-found language skills for a moment.

"T'Pol," Captain Archer ordered and tilted his head in the direction of the turbo lift. "Lieutenant Reed, you have the bridge."

"Aye, Sir."

"Any idea what Trip's little outburst was all about?" Archer asked as they walked towards engineering. "That sounded like Russian."

"It would be a logical conclusion. Commander Tucker mentioned that his second forefather Anthony Tucker lived in Russia."

"A Tucker in Russia?" Archer asked back in disbelief.

"According to Commander Tucker it had something to do with... a 'gal' from Anadyr," T'Pol explained with an elevated eyebrow, while Captain Archer laughed about her stilted use of human slang.

"Hoshi looked quite embarrassed, so maybe it's really better not to know, what Trip said," Archer mused as they reached the entrance of engineering. They were just in time to see Trip dive away from an exploding EPS conduit, while a fountain of sparks scorched his uniform.

 _"Ебанный в рот!"_ Trip swore as he scrambled to get on his feet again.

"I never heard you cuss a blue-streak in Russian before," Archer said bewildered, while lending Trip a hand.

"Well, I've never been pissed off like that before," Trip returned angrily. "Seriously, next time we're on Jupiter Station, I'll boot some of those dimwits out the nearest airlock."

"Maybe it would be in the interest of all involved if you reverted back to speaking Russian," T'Pol delivered deadpan. Trip was the only one, who got the amusement attached to it, courtesy of their bond.

"No, really," Trip continued in exasperation. "What's the use of being capable of warp 5.5, if half of engineering blows up every time we try to give 'er the beans? I can't believe how they jury-rigged the damn EPS grid. That's the sort of shit you'd expect from an office temp with a bad attitude. Those guys are supposed to be engineers. If someone of my team delivers such a crap, he'll be sawing through the latrines with a tooth brush."

"Enough, Trip!" Archer interrupted his rant, but couldn't keep a smile off his face. He knew that Trip's language could get colorful, but he had not heard him swear like that before. He was sure that T'Pol had not understood half of it. "What's the problem?"

"Watch this," Trip explained and opened a schematic of the EPS grid. "They couldn't expand this power line, so they jury-rigged a bypass without installing stronger conduits. That's OK up to 5.2, but as soon as we go faster, the shit goes flyin' and hits the fan."

T'Pol's mind started calculating a useable meaning for a metaphor of airborne excrement colliding with a primitive rotating air conditioning device, but she came up short.

"Can we correct it?" Archer asked.

"Yeah, but that'll mean double shifts for at least a week and we'll run short on spares in the process."

"T'Pol will assist you with that. I'll contact Gardner that we're returning to Jupiter station to pick up spares. We might just as well send the crew on shore leave, while we're at it. Has been a while anyways."

"Like the sound of 'at, Cap'n. Just make sure none of those imbeciles touches my engines ever again."

"I'll keep that in mind," Archer answered with a grin and left engineering.

"Looks like we got a lotta work to do, darlin'"

"Indeed," T'Pol answered and decided against berating him for his unprofessional address – he was irritated enough already.

=/\=

"May I?" T'Pol asked, carrying a tray of food.

"Of course," Hoshi nodded and indicated the free seat on the opposite side of the table. "Where's Commander Tucker?"

"He remained in engineering. It is often unwise to interrupt him, when he is... repairing... his engines. I'll take some food to him when I return to engineering."

Hoshi let out a giggle. Commander Tucker's influence on the resident Vulcan was hard to miss.

"Would you assist me with a linguistic problem, Ensign?"

"Sure, Commander."

"I am experiencing difficulties to understand some of Commander Tuckers colorful phrases, like his recent metaphor of excrement colliding with a fan."

Hoshi choked on her sandwich, desperately trying not to laugh out loud. "That is one of the more mature selections, Commander."

"I suspected that. Commander Tuckers speech was quite... animated."

"That's putting it mildly," Hoshi answered and a blush crept up her face, when she remembered Trip's Russian swearing.

"Would you explain, what Commander Tucker expressed in Russian?"

"No way," Hoshi answered with a shocked expression. "I really meant it, when I said that you don't wanna know what it means. Russian swearing can be somewhat... ripe."

"I see. I suppose it is better for all involved, that the universal translator did not manage to translate it."

"Well, such phrases have been left out deliberately," Hoshi answered with a sigh of relief. "Regarding these... colorful phrases, I'll set up a database for you, Commander. You can then add new phrases, whenever you encounter them."

"Thank you, Ensign. I expect that Commander Tucker will be a constant source of them."

"No doubt about that," Hoshi answered with a smile. "How about meeting in my quarters after the shift? We can go through the phrases that you didn't understand."

"That sounds agreeable, although we may not cover all the phrases. You will, after all, need some time to rest before your next shift."

Hoshi giggled, while T'Pol regarded her with an amused eyebrow lift. Commander Tucker had definitely rubbed off on the Science Officer.

=/\=

"I apologize for the delay," T'Pol said, when Hoshi indicated her to enter her quarters. "Cleaning up after a double shift in engineering took considerably longer than expected."

Hoshi grinned. If the Commander's glow was any indication, she had not been alone in the shower and not only been cleaning herself.

"It's OK, Commander. Have you brought the phrases?"

"Yes. The first one refers to someone 'going primate excrement'," T'Pol explained, poking her PADD.

"Apeshit," Hoshi corrected, grinning.

"I believe that was the exact word."

"Well a more printable variant would be 'going mad', which means that someone gets very angry or irritated."

"So it would be correct use of the phrase, when saying that Commander Tucker went… 'apeshit' earlier today?"

"Maybe not a good phrase for a staff meeting, but you're correct."

"I encountered another primate related phrase, when he told me that Lt. Rostov made a 'monkey's breakfast' of adjusting the intermix ratio."

"Ah, that's one that he must have picked up from Malcolm," Hoshi said with a somewhat mooning grin. T'Pol decided to inquire about that after their linguistic exchange. "It's a British phrase, which means that someone failed very badly at completing a seemingly routine task."

"Understood. There was an exchange during which Trip... Commander Tucker informed me that he would force a crew member to imitate animal noises."

"What was the exact phrase?"

T'Pol took a few moments to remember. "I believe the exact phrase was 'I'll make that dang numbnut squeal like a piggy'."

Hoshi doubled over and whinnied in laughter. She had never heard a Vulcan drawl before. Inwardly she was amazed about T'Pol's proficiency at imitating Trips southern twang. Pictures came up in her mind of Trip and T'Pol practicing drawl in their quarters, which fueled her laughter even more.

T'Pol regarded Hoshi with an elevated eyebrow after the young woman had regained her composure.

"It is a metaphor for punishing someone. It can also be used as a metaphor for the intention to torture someone, but I doubt Trip had that in mind."

"Since he spoke about Lt. Commander Kelby at the time, I would not rule it out," T'Pol remarked deadpan.

"So, any more phrases?" Hoshi asked after another giggle.

"There was one phrase today, which said that he would task a crew member with 'sawing through the latrines using a toothbrush.'"

That's a phrase that comes from Germany. The original words are _'Der kann mit der Zahnbürste den Donnerbalken durchsägen.'_ " It's a somewhat comical metaphor for severe punishment.

"I see. Thank you for your assistance Ensign."

"You're welcome, Commander."

"May I ask a private Question, Ensign? You may decline to answer if it is too invasive."

"Go ahead, Commander."

"Trip recently stated that he saw 'sparks flying' between you and Lt. Reed," T'Pol explained and noticed Hoshi's pronounced blush. "While I do not see the connection between a discharge of static electricity and a romantic relationship, I too have seen signs of mutual affection between you and Mr. Reed. Is this a correct assumption?"

"That depends whether I'm talking to my superior officer or to T'Pol of Vulcan."

"Since it is a private topic, our ranks are of no importance."

"In that case, it might be easier to address each other with our first names in such instances. It makes it easier to discern whether we're talking privately or if it's duty-related," Hoshi offered, knowing that providing a logical reason would be the only chance to make T'Pol accept it.

"A logical proposal, Hoshi."

"Well, you're right," Hoshi answered with a bittersweet smile. "I like Malcolm a lot and I believe he likes me, too. But with the no-frat rules, he would never make a move or even accept a date. He's too strict an officer to go against regulation."

"That is why I asked. Captain Archer did not make it publicly known to avoid encouraging too much fraternization, but he has the authority to exempt crew members from the no-fraternization rules, if their duties are not influenced by a romantic relationship. As we speak, Trip is informing Mr. Reed about it, so you might well expect some... 'moves' to be made."

"Well, or make one myself," Hoshi's grin could by now have given Phlox a run for his money. "Malcolm's so introverted, I can almost see him brooding for weeks before he asks me on a date."

"That was Trip's assessment as well, so he proposed to invite both of you to accompany us to the next movie night and then to a dinner in our quarters."

"A double date," Hoshi squealed happily. "I'd like that, T'Pol."

"I must go now," T'Pol added and with an up-shooting eyebrow she added. "We have... plans."

"Thank you, T'Pol," Hoshi returned and kept laughing until long after the Vulcan had left.

=/\=

The work had been a nightmare of painstaking trial and error. It had taken T'Pol hours of work in the science lab to get a written representation of Trip's Russian swearing that was cought on the surveillance system. It came up in a series of letters, of which she could only identify less than 50%. Further studies had revealed that Russia used a different alphabet than the English-speaking countries. When she tasked the computer with the translation, her eyes went wide, before she pushed the off-button and walked out of the science lab.

Grimy and sweaty, Trip returned from another double shift in engineering. When he opened the door, he saw a waiting T'Pol – arms crossed over her chest. Giving him a death stare she started her interrogation.

"Would you explain to me who's mother and who's mouth you... fucked."

"I...You... what!" Trip stammered in disbelief.

"I do believe my question was clear and unambiguous. Speak."

Trip stared at her in shock, but after a while he started smiling and shook his head.

"You find this amusing?" T'Pol answered and her voice left no doubt about her displeased mood. "Your first phrase 'yob tvoyoo mat' alludes that you engaged in sexual intercourse with someone's mother. And the second phrase 'yobanny v rot' means 'he, who performed oral gratification'. I find these innuendos hardly related to the problems in engineering."

Trip fell to the floor, finally realizing what she was going on about, laughing hysterically. "I should ask Hoshi to explain human swearing to you, darlin'," Trip managed between two laughs.

"I do not believe that to be necessary. My displeasure was only pretended. I found it quite amusing to see you getting your undergarments disheveled for a moment."

Trip was howling on the floor. "Knickers, darlin'. I got my knickers in a twist."

"I believe I said so," T'Pol added and watched in pleased amusement, how her mate kept pounding the floor in a fit of laughter.


	3. Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip, T'Pol, Malcolm and Hoshi go on a double date...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes references to the movie "Heartbreak Ridge" and also to events that happen in Alelou's "Season 1 Missing Scenes".

"Hey Mal, got a minute?"

"Sure," the Brit answered and indicated Trip to follow him into his cabin. "I've heard your cabin has grown considerably in size."

"Yeah, I almost passed out when we came home from that away mission," Trip answered with a chuckle.

Malcolm opened a nondescript drawer and took out a bottle, holding it in Trip's direction as an unspoken offer.

"The ship's most law-abiding officer has a secret stash of beer?" Trip asked with a grin.

"We obviously all have our dark secrets, Commander," Malcolm replied dryly, when Trip took the proffered object.

"Thanx, Mal."

"So, what happened to 'I should never have gotten involved with her'?"

"Well, she finally gave up her reluctance to admit the obvious, that's what happened."

"Obviously. I think that, except for the two of you, pretty much everyone knew that one day you'd end up with the same address."

"Tell me about it," Trip said with a chuckle.

"The Captain seems remarkably laid back about it."

"Yeah, good on him. Actually that's why I'm here, Mal. I think I know, whom you would like to 'share an address' with." Trip took a swig and regarded Malcolm with a mischievous grin.

"You do?"

"Mal, even T'Pol sees that you and Hoshi have it bad for each other. In fact, at this very minute she and Hoshi are having a little girl talk."

"You know that it isn't possible," Malcolm answered. His sadness was badly hidden. "You and T'Pol have the same rank. The Captain would never be so benevolent about it if I started dating a subordinate."

"He will, Mal. Jon didn't make any announcement, because he doesn't want his ship to turn into a high school, but Forrest gave him permission to exempt people from the no-frat rules, if it doesn't impact job performance. If anyone on this ship could separate duty and private time as good as T'Pol, it'd be you."

"So you honestly believe that Captain Archer would allow a Lieutenant to date an Ensign?" Malcolm replied with a disbelieving look as if Trip had just claimed that Earth was flat.

"Hell, he would allow you to date Porthos as long as you do your job on the bridge." Both men shared a laugh about that.

"Thank you for that image, Trip."

"You're welcome," Trip quipped and they clunked the bottles together before a taking swig of their beer.

"I like the news," Malcolm sighed with a far away look. "I'll think about it."

"Think about it?" Trip asked with a mock-incredulous look that soon turned into a grin. "You've had it bad for Hoshi for what? 2 years now – and you need to think about it?"

"Actually three," Malcolm admitted shyly. "Ever since we barbecued the Klingons on that deuterium mining colony. A gorgeous girl who's good with weapons, who can resist that...?"

"You should see T'Pol wielding a staff, hm...," Trip added as both broke into laughter again.

"Actually, Mal," Trip continued. "I already expected you to start brooding over it, probably for weeks. That's why we decided to make next movie-night into a double-date. T'Pol's proposing the same to Hoshi and you know what her answer will be."

"She'll probably squeal like a schoolgirl – 'ooh, T'Pol, I'd like that'," Malcolm quipped in a not very convincing imitation of Hoshi's voice and the two friends shared a nice laugh.

"Did you know that T'Pol and Hoshi had some sort of girl talk ever since we ran into that Romulan mine?" Trip asked.

"Now there's a surprise. How did that come about?"

"Actually, I think I might have had something to do with it. A few weeks before that, she started having trouble in her science department. People wanted to be transferred to other departments, mainly engineering. So T'Pol came to me one day, asking for advice. We started to have regular meals together at that time."

"You have no idea how hyped up the rumor mill was. Half the female contingent was hell bent on getting closer to you, but you started to have meals with the resident Vulcan, of all people," Malcolm said with a chuckle.

"After Hoshi was injured, I asked T'Pol how she was and she didn't know, because she saw no logical reason to ask. For her it was logical that Phlox would say something if there were problems in 'Ensign Sato's healing process'. I explained how much it meant for crewmen if their boss dropped by now and then while they were laid up in sickbay."

"And she took your advise?"

"Obviously. Ever since then she's gone to Hoshi whenever she was confused about some human behavior or language. And with me teasing the hell out of her, you can imagine that she had plenty reasons to ask Hoshi about it."

"I can imagine. So Hoshi and T'Pol are actually friends?"

"In human terms, they're the best of friends, y'know, the type of girls who chat endlessly about how good their men were in bed last night. If there's anyone on board,who knows even half as much about T'Pol as I do, it's Hoshi."

"I have trouble imagining T'Pol gossiping about your shagging performance," Malcolm giggled.

"Well, probably not that, but for Vulcans, telling their age is considered somewhat intimate and Hoshi knows T'Pol's age. That should tell you something."

"I've never heard T'Pol address her as anything but 'Ensign Sato', though" Malcolm remarked in surprise about the news of Hoshi and T'Pol being such close friends.

"That's because she doesn't. After almost 3 years of girl-friendship, T'Pol still addresses her by rank. Hoshi said she's still trying to find a way to explain that it is logical to address her by first name. That's the only way T'Pol will accept it. However, as soon as Hoshi finds such an explanation, it'll be second nature for T'Pol to call her by name, that's my darlin' for ya," Trip explained and for the umpteenth time Malcolm noticed that somewhat dreamy and goofy grin that crept up on Trip's face, whenever he talked about T'Pol. _Yep, they really have it bad for each other._

"Did you notice how much T'Pol changed the last days? Sometimes I think she's trying to become human, like cracking that joke in sickbay for instance." Malcolm inquired.

"She's not trying to become human, but she's trying to blend in more. That's just T'Pol's logic. She's in a relationship with a human on a human ship. The same way, she'll expect me to stop grinning at everything and to hold back on laughing when we're among Vulcans. We're trying to find some compromise that doesn't require her to become too human or me to become too Vulcan. I'm quite surprised about how many concessions she's willing to make."

"Seems to work though. You two look good together," Malcom said as he chucked the empty bottles into the recycler."

"Works great so far. Gotta go, Mal. T'Pol has informed me that we 'have...plans'," Trip said with an imitation of T'Pols raised-eyebrow gesture.

"Trip," Malcolm called after his retreating friend. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Trip nodded, turning back just short of the door. "Knowing about your little secret stash now, I'll probably blackmail you into sharing."

"Get out," Malcolm quipped with a chuckle.

=/\=

Malcolm Reed slowly navigated the corridors of the ship. Sleep had not come easy after the exciting news that Trip had brought the night before. It was still an hour before the shift began, but he was too nervous to wait in his cabin or to sit in the Mess Hall.

The introverted tactical officer was slighthy bemused by Trip's unexpected psychological skills. He had foreseen his reaction with an impressive accuracy, knowing ahead of time his reluctance to make a move on Hoshi even knowing that such an action would now probably have the Captain's blessing.

"Good morning."

Malcolm was startled out of his brooding by an all-too-familiar female voice.

"Good morning, Ensign," Malcolm answered, letting a bit too much of his nervousness seep into his voice.

"I heard that we have a date tomorrow," Hoshi said shyly with an equally nervous smile.

"As I was informed by Commander Tucker."

"Are you ok with that? You don't have to..." Hoshi offered, slightly warily.

"Oh, I am, definitely," Malcolm assured, slightly wary himself. "And you?"

"Malcolm," Hoshi sighed, taking his hand. He looked nervously at their clasped hands. "I know you aren't like Trip. 'Hey babe, I like ya. Wanna go on a date?'" she quipped, imitating Trip's southern twang with the sharp skills of a linguist.

Malcolm laughed out loud and Hoshi smiled at the sight of Malcolm's guffaw.

"Actually, I find it cute that T'Pol is going along with Trip in playing matchmaker," she added with her patented coy smile.

"He's right though," Malcolm admitted. "I would have said nothing for weeks, brooding about how to ask you on a date. It's not my strong-suit."

"I know," Hoshi giggled. "That's why, as soon as T'Pol told me about the relaxed no-frat rules, I had decided that, if you hadn't made a move by this afternoon, I'd be standing on your door tonight."

"Looks like our friends are even more impatient than you are," Malcom answered with a chuckle.

"Join me for breakfast," Hoshi offered, still smiling.

"Sure, ma'am."

=/\=

Trip and T'Pol waited at the entrance to the mess hall, watching Malcolm and Hoshi approach arm in arm.

"Hoshi, Malcolm," T'Pol greeted with a nod and noticed Malcolm's surprised look about being addressed by his first name. _Looks like Hoshi found a logical explanation._

"T'Pol, Trip," he returned.

"What's showing?" Hoshi asked, all smiles.

"Heartbreak Ridge," Trip said and made a gallant gesture for all of them to enter. A lot of already seated crewmen turned their heads and broke into smiles and chuckles about the entering foursome.

"Must be something in the air," Phlox mused and flashed his trademark acre-wide smile.

"I'll get the popcorn," Trip said and walked off, while the others looked for 4 adjacent free seats.

"Do you know that movie?" Hoshi asked.

"I've never seen it before, but Trip seems to like it. Something about Marines, so I'm sure it'll have weapons in it," Malcolm explained, chuckling.

"Good," Hoshi grinned and snaked her arm around his.

Trip returned just in time for the start of the show, placing a big bowl of popcorn between himself and T'Pol, giving the second one to Malcolm and Hoshi."

About an hour later T'Pol leaned in and whispered in Trip's ear. "I appears that Hoshi and Malcolm have progressed in their courtship most expeditiously."

Trip glanced over and catched the final moments of Hoshi planting a kiss on a very flustered Malcolm's cheek.

"You do know that you were supposed to watch the movie, not Mal 'n Hoshi darlin', don't ya?" Trip whispered back with an amused grin.

"We are watching an aging man with severe language assembly deficits show frequent emotional outbursts to his subordinates. He is also most cumbersome in his interaction with his desired mate. I find the interaction of Malcolm and Hoshi far more fascinating and enlightening. I still need to learn a great deal about how to... interact with a human mate."

Trying desperately not to disturb the other viewers by laughing out loud, Trip kissed the tip of her ear and whispered "You're doing fine, darlin'. Just watch the aging man."

=/\=

Archer slowly walked through the corridor in a glum mood. Porthos trundled along with an excitedly wagging tail. Their walks after movie night were the little beagle's favorite time as the stream of returning crew members would mean that enough passers by would stop to pet him or give him a little scratch behind the ears.

Archer had to do a double-take as he neared a T-junction. _Are that Trip and T'Pol arm in arm in public? I wonder if they are aware of it or if they do it in solidarity with Hoshi and ... wait!_

"Captain," T'Pol greeted, showing no sign of self-consciousness about the public display of affection.

"I should contact Starfleet to have Enterprise be renamed to Love Boat," he quipped. "Somehow I knew that Hoshi and you would be the next. Congratulations."

"Do I take it as your approval, Sir?"

"Of course. You and Hoshi are every bit as professional as Trip and T'Pol, so I see no danger of you getting sloppy."

"We won't, Sir," Hoshi promised happily.

"I'm surprised, T'Pol. Arm in arm in public?" Archer grinned teasingly.

"It is a traditional human gesture on a... date and I see no reason for anyone to be offended by it. We are on a human ship," she lectured, all science officer-like.

"Date, huh? Well then have a nice evening," Archer laughed replied and continued his walk, his mood had just gotten even gloomier.

=/\=

"Wow," Hoshi sighed in amazement as the foursome entered Trip and T'Pol's quarters. "Double bed, dinner table. The Captain really went out of his way to make you comfortable. Now I know why he was grinning all day when you were on that planet."

"Indeed," T'Pol replied with an amusedly raised eyebrow, while Trip com'ed the galley to ask whether the diner was ready.

"How did you get Chef to make you a private dinner?" Malcolm asked.

"When Trip and I asked him about it and informed him that you and Hoshi would be attending, too, he appeared to be... relieved. I believe his exact words were 'it was about damn time'."

"Seems like Chef's a hopeless romantic," Hoshi replied and giggled about T'Pol's new-found habit of memorizing human phrases.

"So how did you like the movie T'Pol?" Hoshi asked while the steward served the dinner and lit the candles.

"It was... difficult to follow," T'Pol admitted, trying to mask the fact that those difficulties came mainly from her fascination with Hoshi and Malcolm's interaction. "I shall revisit it in private, when I have access to your database of colorful phrases."

"Indeed," Malcolm quipped. "This Gunny Highway makes Trip sound like a diplomat."

"Hey, I don't sound even half as bad," Trip mock-protested, dimming the lights after the steward had left. "And besides, for the really nasty swearing, I switch to Russian anyways."

"Don't remind me," Hoshi pleaded with giggle.

"Hoshi, what does... 'pumping the neighbors dog' mean? Maybe the Captain..."

T'Pol's innocent inquiry was interrupted by all three humans breaking into hysterical laughter.

Seemingly confused about the unexpected reaction she added. "I do not understand. I was merely wondering if it refers to a form of interaction that would explain Porthos' presence on board."

The next round of guffaws erupted.

"T'Pol, I doubt that anyone will ever believe you again when you claim that Vulcans do not have a sense of humor or don't make jokes," Malcolm chuckled and wiped away a few tears of laughter.

"It's only a rather colorful figure of speech, T'Pol," Hoshi giggled. "And certainly not a gesture which Porthos would appreciate."

That sparked the next round of giggles. Trip found himself completely unable to discern whether T'Pol's raised eyebrow meant that she really had no clue or whether she had deliberately tried to make them laugh.

After finishing the meal, Hoshi broached a subject that she had pondered since the encounter with Captain Archer in the corridor.

"T'Pol, I was wondering the about same as the captain. You seem remarkably relaxed about Trip taking your hand in the corridor or walking arm in arm."

"It is a logical compromise. It would not be logical or fair to force Trip to accept all Vulcan norms on public behavior. It would be equally illogical to force me to embrace all gestures, which are acceptable in human society. That's why we found the logical compromise of allowing simple gestures like casual touch but keeping more intimate contact to the privacy of our quarters."

"Would still cause quite a ruckus, if you were to walk arm in arm in view of any other Vulcans," Malcolm wondered.

"Well," Trip answered. "We wouldn't do it on Vulcan or on a Vulcan ship."

T'Pol eyed the happy and dreamy smile on Hoshi's features.

"You appear amused, Hoshi."

"Yeah. I just remembered our very first conversation. You thought I was imagining things and I ended up swearing at you in Vulcan. Now, 4 years later, we're sitting in your quarters, sipping fine wine and discuss private matters. Enterprise has changed our lives quite a bit."

"Add violating the time-line to your list," Trip snickered. "On that other Enterprise, this guy ended up alone," he quipped and pointed at Malcolm with his thumb.

"Not in this one, he doesn't," Hoshi purred and shot Malcolm a glance.

"I agree with Hoshi's observation. My first encounter with Trip was of a very... confrontational nature, yet it did not take long before I started to discover the more agreeable aspects of his character."

"How long?" Trip asked with curious interest.

"Until our encounter in the decon chamber after the away-mission to Rigel X."

Trip blushed and uttered. "That'll make two, then."

"Vulcans are touch-telepaths, ashayam. I was acutely aware of your fascination with my ears."

Trip didn't know what to answer, but his embarrassed look was enough to cause an amused eyebrow to wander upwards on T'Pol's features. Drowning in each others eyes, they momentarily forgot the presence of their friends.

Malcolm shot Hoshi an amazed glance. Their two friends where looking at each other with a look that was so hot that the ship's security officer started wondering if he would have to hose them down soon. Not in his wildest dreams would he have thought that a Vulcan would be capable of such an unmistakable display of love.

"Didn't know I was that obvious," Trip said, still slightly embarrassed.

"You obviously failed to notice that I did not immediately protest your... ministration," T'Pol answered and Hoshi could have sworn that the corners of T'Pol had twitched upwards for a moment.

Hoshi started fanning herself with a napkin, grinning widely. "You have no idea just how hot that exchange was. I'm amazed that you can talk so easily about such intimate things."

"It wouldn't have happened if someone else, but you and Malcolm would be present," T'Pol explained. "I consider you, Hoshi, a very close friend and Malcolm is one of Trip's best friends. As I understand it, it is usual to share even intimate details of one's life with good friends."

"Only a Vulcan would analyze the logic of friendship," Malcolm teased.

"Indeed," T'Pol shot back with an arched eyebrow. "In fact there is a very intimate detail that we decided to share with you."

Hoshi and Malcolm exchanged a surprised glance, not knowing what will come next.

"What I am about to explain is not usually divulged to non-Vulcans, but since it is likely that we will spend the next several years on this ship, we wish to have at least one other person who knows our situation. Should something happen to Trip and myself, responsibility will then fall to you to decide whether or not to reveal this information to medical personnel."

"Sounds scary," Hoshi muttered nervously.

"It isn't," Trip smiled back. "Just listen."

"Trip and I do not merely pursue a romantic relationship. We are bond-mates. By human standards this is comparable to being engaged."

"Trip popped the question?" Hoshi squealed in surprise. T'Pol shot her a confused look.

"Does that mean he asked you to marry him?" Malcolm clarified.

"He did not have to. We share what is called a mating bond. It is a telepathic connection. Our bond is still forming, but, once it has reached its full strength, we will be considered married by Vulcan law."

Hoshi and Malcolm listened in wide-eyed amazement.

"Our bond has consequences, however. If we both should be incapacitated, it is imperative that we are not separated from each other, as we will need each others mental presence to heal. It is also important that – if possible – we be put in physical contact. A strong touch-telepathic connection will make it easier for me to reach Trips mind."

"If your minds are connected," Malcolm asked, "does that mean you can communicate telepathically?"

"No; at least, not yet. There are ancient texts that speak of mates who could 'speak without words,' but it is an exceptionally rare occurrence. Vulcan telepathic abilities are limited."

"That would mean that Trip must have latent telepathic abilities," Hoshi mused. "I know I have, that's why I'm able to pick up languages so quickly. It's extremely rare amongst humans."

"Not necessarily. I have started to research the matter. The human brain is exceptionally adaptable. If a region of the brain is damaged, it is often possible to train other regions to adapt and take over the functions of the damaged region. That means an undamaged human brain has a considerable amount of unused capacity. It is my theory, that my mind, reaching out to his, caused his brain to adapt to basic telepathy."

"Amazing," Malcolm muttered. "And this bond formed just like that?"

"Usually a bond is initiated by a priest during the wedding ceremony, however ancient texts describe instances of bonding without a mindmeld. They describe rare events of such bonding, if a Vulcan found 'the One'..." T'Pol trailed of and drowned in Trip's eyes again as their hands reached for each other across the table.

"They're doing it again," Malcolm mouthed to Hoshi with an amused glance. Hoshi nodded and observed the two unlikely lovebirds with rapt interest.

Malcolm softly cleared his throat to return them out of their hypnosis, while Hoshi contributed a mooning "aawww" to the rescue-effort.

"Didn't the priest initiate a bond, when you married that Koss bloke?" Malcolm asked when the two lovers had returned to the here-and-now.

"He tried. Although the bond between Trip and myself was in a very early stage then, it still was powerful enough to prevent a union between me and Koss. I did not understand why I experienced extreme repulsion during the ceremony at the time, but I do now: It was our bond defending itself against intrusion."

"So whenever Trip gets fancy ideas about another woman, the bond will smack him upside the head?" Malcolm quipped.

"A somewhat crude but accurate description, Malcolm."

"Hey, I don't need no bond to stay faithful," Trip chuckled in mock-indignation.

"Given your proficiency in interspecies-relationships before we bonded, it is reassuring to know that there is a safeguard," T'Pol added with obvious amusement. Malcolm and Hoshi laughed about their loving banter.

Their conversation was cut short by the blaring com-device.

"Senior officers, report to the bridge! Senior officers, report to the bridge!"


	4. Beat The Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip redecorates engineering in a very unfavorable manner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit hard on Cpt. Archer, but things cannot always go smooth in the universe.

As the turbo-lift door hissed open, the four senior officers ran onto the bridge and relieved their counterparts of the graveyard ship.

"Sorry to wreck your evening," Archer apologized. "We've picked up an automated distress call of a Vulcan ship."

"Did they identify themselves?" T'Pol asked.

"The name is _T'Planit_ ," Hoshi added, listening to the recording. Archer shot T'Pol a questioning look.

"It's an ambassadorial courier – the personal transport of Ambassador Soval," she answered; her face hid her shock only badly.

"How long to the rendezvous?"

"2.1 hours at warp 5.2, Sir," Travis answered.

"Another ship is approaching them," T'Pol interrupted. "They are ahead of us bearing 246 mark 25."

"They're traveling at warp 4.8 and at our current speed will beat us to it by 10 minutes," Travis added.

"Who is it?"

"Unidentified. The power signature is close to that of a Kumari-class, but not identical," T'Pol reported, typing and pushing away at her console visibly more frantic than usual.

"Too risky," Archer decided. "Trip can we get more out of the engines? As long as we don't know who they are, we've gotta be there before them."

"5.3, maybe 5.4 for a while, but we'll be redecorating engineering in the worst way in the process. We haven't completed all redesigns yet. And we'll probably be out of spares afterward."

"Damn!"

"I take care of it," Trip answered and started towards the turbolift.

"Commander," T'Pol called after him. He stopped and shot her a questioning glance. "Be careful."

"Always, Commander," Trip answered with a short smile and sped of into the turbo-lift.

Archer watched te scene, bemused by T'Pol's mother-hen gesture, but also noted how consequently they had switched from date mode to duty professionalism. Trip had even addressed her by her rank. _Wonders never cease._

=/\=

"Anna, take the automatic routines offline and control the intermix-ratio manually, keep it 0.3 below recommendation. That'll relieve the pressure a bit," Trip barked as he ran into engineering. "Rostov purge the manifolds!"

"What's wrong?" Anna Hess asked as she raced over to the console.

"We're gonna red-line the engines and it'll soon be a hellhole in here," Trip answered, frantically checking all his readouts. "Tucker to bridge, Cap'n here ready down 'ere! Start 'er at 5.3. I'll ping ya if we're ready for 5.4"

=/\=

"Ok, give it a shot Cap'n," Trip barked into the com 20 minutes later.

"Travis, warp 5.4."

"We should pass them in 5 minutes," Travis reported.

"Hold her steady, Ensign. Trip, how's the status in engineering?"

"Engineering's... oh for pete's sake!..." Trip's swearing was interrupted by the muffled sound of a small explosion and an audible thud, which sounded very much like a Commander hitting the deck. Another furious Russian blue-streak sounded over the com, which made Hoshi gasp and blush deeply.

T'Pol watched Hoshi's reaction. Considering Ensign Sato's radical change in facial coloring, it could only mean that her mate's latest venture into foreign language outbursts contained an even stronger message than mating with someone's mother. It did not sound like he had paid much attention to her latest advise of being careful.

"'Everything OK' would sound different," Archer sighed. "Keep the channel open, Hoshi, just in case Commander Tucker's..."

"Cap'n, I'm evacuat'n all non-critical personnel from engineering! We've got 60° centigrade down 're. It's a damn hell-hole. I can hold it for another 2 minutes or so, any longer and we're gonna have to get out and **push** 'er home."

"Ok, Trip, hold it for 2 minutes, then we go back to 5.1"

"Like the sound 'o that..."

"T'Pol, where's the other ship?"

"We passed them 0.55 minutes ago. At Warp 5.1, we would reach the _T'Planit_ 4.5 minutes before them."

"Ok,Travis, 5.1, give Trip a break."

"Aye..."

"EVERYBODY GET DOWN! T'S GONNA BE NASTY!" Trip's shouting sounded through the still open connection to engineering. A series of explosions were followed by an almighty thud, very suspiciously sounding like someone violently slamming into a bulkhead. The connection went silent and only hissing sounds – probably coolant leaks – remained.

"Archer to Engineering!"

Archers request was met by silence, only the hissing of several leaks could be heard.

"Archer to Engineering!"

"Engineering, Hess here. We have casualties, we can sustain 5.1, nothing more. Engineering is a mess," a very heavily breathing Lieutenant reported.

"We'll send help," Archer offered. "T'Pol, Malcolm, go down, see if you can help, I'll alert Phlox."

"Aye, Sir."

=/\=

"Oh, bloody Hell!" Malcolm uttered, when he followed T'Pol into engineering. The air was scorching hot. "T'Pol, over there!"

They found the unconscious body of Commander Tucker and T'Pol reached for his neck to check for a pulse. She found one, but it was weak and unsteady. "T'Pol to Phlox, medical emergency in engineering."

"I'm already on my way," Phlox replied with the calm of a man who had seen such a situation thousands of times.

"Commander, I'll check for other casualties, maybe you can keep an eye on Trip," Malcolm offered and T'Pol answered with a grateful glance and a nod.

"Two more injured, but they can walk. Looks like Trip took the brunt of it," Reed reported just two minutes later, when the medics and Dr. Phlox arrived.

"No spinal injuries," Phlox summarized. "Load him on the stretcher and off to sickbay. Where are the other casualties?"

=/\=

Captain Archer, Lt. Reed and Commander T'Pol filed into the ready room.

"What's the status?" the captain asked.

"Commander Tucker, Lt. Rostov and Ensign McInally are in sickbay. Severe damage to the EPS grid, but Lt. Hess is convinced it is repairable. A life support team is working on returning the temperature in engineering to normal levels as quick as possible," T'Pol summarized.

"Ok. We will reach the _T'Planit_ in about 30 minutes. Lt. Reed, assemble a team of MACO's to accompany T'Pol to the ship when we get there,"

"Aye, Sir," Reed nodded and left.

"How's Trip?" Archer asked, once Malcolm has left.

"Phlox says he is stable," T'Pol answered tersely. "We should concentrate on planning the rescue-mission."

"Of course," Archer nodded. "We can't dock, just in case this mysterious ship is hostile, so you've got to go in a shuttlepod. We've got about 4 minutes before those guys arrive. I don't think that'll be enough."

"There is one option," T'Pol answered. "We could sling-start the shuttlepod."

"How's that work?"

"We will spool up the shuttlepod's engines and open the launch bay doors. After we drop out of warp, _Enterprise_ comes to an emergency full-stop from maximum impulse speed. The inertial energy will catapult the shuttle out of the bay. That will give us more speed than possible on own propulsion for at least 30 seconds."

"Sounds dangerous. We only had a single test with Trip's partially disabled inertial dampers."

"It is, but it is the only chance to dock with the _T'Planit_ in under 4 minutes."

"Have you done something like that before."

"No, but my theoretical calculations have shown the risks to be manageable."

"I would start to argue with you, but you've proven me wrong often enough, so I'll trust your instincts."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Commander," he called out, before she reached the door. "Be careful,"

"Always, Captain," she answered and Archer couldn't help smiling.

=/\=

Sergeant Amanda Cole and her MACO's stood lined up, waiting for Commander T'Pol to arrive.

"Ten-hut!" Amanda ordered as T'Pol entered.

"At ease," the Vulcan returned and addressed the soldiers.

"The transfer to the target will be fairly unpleasant, the human term would be 'a wild ride' as we will have to reroute power from the inertial dampers to the engines. The dampers will work at reduced power. It is imperative that you all strap in firmly as soon as we board the shuttle. Once we are aboard, I expect my directions to be followed to the letter. Board the shuttle."

"Ten-hut, right-face."

T'Pol watched the MACO's move in an orderly, almost choreographed manner. Her fondness for structure and order admired this, but she also wondered if this was an instance of what Commander Tucker liked to call 'showing off' on behalf of the MACO's.

As soon as the shuttle's hatch was closed, the launch bay was depressurized and the doors where opened, despite _Enterprise_ still being at full impulse-speed. The _T'Planit_ was visible directly ahead.

"Shuttlepod 2 to _Enterprise_ , we are ready to start."

"Acknowledged. Start in 30 seconds."

The countdown was nearing completion. Amanda Cole was startled slightly when she heard the Vulcan in the pilot seat mutter, "Here we go."

She couldn't follow up that thought as suddenly her breath was taken away by a massive acceleration. A hideous screeching sound filled her ears as the shuttle slid across the launch bay floor and was hurled out of the door, leaving two smoking trails behind.

Sergeant Cole became increasingly worried, since it looked like the Vulcan would smash them head-on into the ship. At what looked like the last possible moment, the pointy-eared pilot forced the shuttle into a steep dive and, after a while, into a steep ascent as they dove below the Vulcan transport. Once the obstacle was cleared, the passenger's stomachs where field-tested as the shuttle was yanked into a looping roll, ending with them facing the opposite direction of where they came from, with _T'Planit's_ docking port almost straight ahead. Spooling down the engines, T'Pol coasted the last part of the distance and they docked with a hefty clunk.

"Enterprise, we have docked," she reported, just over 2 minutes after being catapulted out of _Enterprise's_ launch bay.

=/\=

"Jesus Christ!" Travis exclaimed with wide opened eyes as he watched T'Pol's shuttle-acrobatics.

"The other ship is approaching," Malcolm reported. "They're charging weapons."

"Full power to hull plating," Archer barked before being thrown to the floor as a phase cannon hit rocked the ship.

"Full hit to phaser cannons, one offline."

"Torpedoes, full yield!"

"Their shields are down," Malcolm analyzed as the screen showed two of the Mark II photonic torpedoes smash into the attacker, which looked like a Kumari-class cruiser of the Andorian Imperial Guard.

Another hit rocked _Enterprise._ And Malcolm reported that both cannons were now useless.

"We could ram them," Travis offered.

"What?" Archer looked at him in disbelief.

"With shuttlepod 1, the way we launched Commander T'Pol," Travis clarified.

"Aw, what the hell?" Archer grumbled. "Depressurize launch bay 1, prepare to open doors."

Travis performed the same L4-maneuver that they had used once to get rid of Duras and positioned the ship directly behind the attacker.

"Open doors, full emergency stop in 10 seconds!"

When _Enterprise_ came to a sudden halt, the crew looked on as the uncontrolled shuttle hurtled towards the Andorians and exploded as it smashed into their propulsion section, setting off a bigger, secondary explosion.

"They're dead in the water, Sir," Malcolm reported with the tiniest of smug smiles.

=/\=

Wordlessly, T'Pol directed the MACO's along the corridors. Even for her disciplined emotional control, the picture looked grim. Vulcan corpses littered each room they had entered so far. The walls were scarred from the fire-fight had had happened with whomever responsible for the massacre. Two critically injured survivors had been found so far and transported to _Enterprise's_ sickbay.

As they entered the meditation chamber, T'Pol's control lapsed for a second as she gasped audibly. _Soval!_

=/\=

"Hoshi, get me the Vulcan High Council. I'll take in my ready room."

"Aye, Sir."

"It is agreeable to see you again, Captain Archer," T'Pau opened with a nod.

"Nice to see you, too, Minister."

"I was informed that you have found Ambassador Soval's ship."

"Yes, it was boarded and most of the crew was murdered. We have rescued 3 survivors, all in critical condition."

"Is Ambassador Soval among the survivors?"

"He is. T'Pol says he is in a healing trance and thinks that we need a Vulcan healer as soon as possible."

"A healer is on his way. We have been in contact with the Andorian government. The Andorians, who attacked the ship are criminals. Commander Shran of the Imperial Guard is on his way, he also is bringing a healer."

"I see. In the mean time, we will try to do what we can for the survivors. Do you have any information that could be helpful for us?"

"I could not give you any more information than your Commander T'Pol. Is she not available?"

"She is, thank you Minister."

"Peace and long life, Captain Archer."

"Live long and prosper, Minister T'Pau."

Heavily sighing, the Captain sat back in his chair for a while.

=/\=

"Ah, Commander," Phlox greeted with a hushed voice as T'Pol entered the darkened sickbay,

"How are they?" she asked and the dark rings under her eyes were a manifestation of her exhaustion.

"The Ambassador is still in his healing trance, but his vital signs are starting to stabilize, albeit on a very low level."

"Unfortunately Commander Tucker does not seem to be reacting well to my therapy. He has only marginally improved. I'm sorry that I do not have better news for you."

"No need to apologize, Doctor. I am here to offer my help. Once the crisis is over, I shall give you all information you'll need, but for the moment it is important that I can get into close contact with Commander Tucker."

"So the rumors are true that you and Mr. Tucker are – as the humans say – an item, finally?"

"We are more than that," T'Pol replied with a stern look. "Once I'm in sufficient contact, you will notice that Commander Tuckers vital signs will drop to a low level, but they will stabilize and gradually improve."

"You want to put Commander Tucker into the same healing trance as Ambassador Soval?"

"Yes, he cannot initiate it on his own, but I can assist him. Once the healer arrives, he will know how to proceed."

"You are a bonded pair?"

"How do you know?"

"During my years in the IME I have worked a long time on Vulcan. It appears that I have gained the trust of your people to be given such delicate information. That opens a lot of new therapeutic options."

"Indeed. How is the physical constitution of Commander Tucker? The biobeds are fairly narrow, I would have to position myself on top of him."

"You are delicately built. Your weight will not cause any problem."

"I see."

"I'm relieving you of duty for medical reasons, please go ahead. I will put the privacy screens in place."

"Thank you doctor."

After being assured that their privacy as secure, she removed the blanket and looked at the pale figure of her mate. He was clad in only his blue skivvies. She removed her uniform and laid herself down on him. She kissed his neck gently while she initiated the trance. Their katras started their joint work of healing him.

 _What is it that I wanted to do? There is something I forgot,_ Phlox thought an hour after the two Commanders started their trance. _You're getting old, Phlox._ Checking his monitor he noticed that the vital signs of Commander Tucker started to improve. Smiling to himself, he returned to his microscope to continue his analysis.

=/\=

Captain Archer walked through the corridors, but his mind was somewhere else. Ever since he had seen his 4 senior officers happily chatting on a double-date, he had felt even worse. Although he was happy for the two couples and had given his stamp of approval without hesitation, their very happiness hammered the fact home that he was alone. Never had the saying 'it's lonely at the top' been more spot-on.

His mind wandered back to the climbing tour with Erika and the almost glorious sensation of waking up with a female body in his arms. ONCE – once in over four years he had not woken up alone. But Erika was now on _Columbia_ , married to Starfleet, just like him. A divorce had never looked like such a good prospect before.

The doubts about continuing his service on a star-ship had been with him ever since the end of the Xindi mission. Erika had almost eradicated them on their tour, but only almost and now they grew back, bigger and bigger by the day.

Still brooding, he absentmindedly entered sickbay, trundled over to Trip's biobed – and froze. _How dare they shove it in my face like that,_ his mind screamed and a poisonous tidal wave of sadness and irrational envy raced through his mind. The ship's half-naked chief engineer was in his biobed with the first officer in her underwear lying on top of him, both closely entangled, her lips pressed to his neck and her right hand's fingers resting on his face in a way that almost reminded him of the peculiar face grab of T'Pau, before she mind melded with him.

"What the hell?"

The growling question roused Phlox, who had not noticed Archers arrival, from his analysis. In a surprisingly swift movement, considering his robust build, he grabbed the puzzled Captain and dragged him away from the bed before hurriedly closing the privacy screens again.

"Doc, what's going on in there?"

"That is none of your business," the usually lighthearted Denobulan shot back in visible anger. "How can a man of your experience fail the simple task of grasping the concept of a privacy screen?"

Ignoring the doctors question, the Captain got angry himself. "I gave them permission to have a relationship. That doesn't include the permission for T'Pol to come to sickbay and snuggle up to her boyfriend every night. This is a medical facility and not a cheap motel."

"Considering that you are stumped by something as simple as a privacy screen, I wouldn't expect you to be able to tell a Vulcan healing trance from an intimate encounter," the doctor growled in a low voice. "Commander T'Pol has been relieved of duty and will remain so until the arrival of the Vulcan healer. And now please leave my sickbay or I'll have to declare this a quarantined area to enforce your departure.

Archer was taken aback. Not too many people in his life had ever had the nerve to call him an idiot. The most enraging thing was though, that he realized that Phlox was right. He had jumped to a stupid conclusion, due to his depressed mindset and an irrational pang of envy. Wordlessly he turned to leave, but stopped again.

"I'm sorry, Phlox, I was out of line."

"You were, but your reaction is understandable. Maybe it would help if you sat down for a moment?"

Nodding, the Captain took a seat.

"Captain, if you remember, we had a discussion here 3 years ago. There was a period of sexual tension between you and your first officer. It was understandable. Humans, males especially, are not designed to endure long periods of time without sexual intercourse. So these tensions are unavoidable. Your professionalism and your discipline allowed you to endure it without acting on any urges."

Archer was uneasy, but somehow he hoped Phlox would soon get to the point soon.

"But that is not your first and foremost problem, is it?"

"No, Phlox. In those early days of our mission, somewhere around the start of our second year, I think I developed a bit of a crush on T'Pol. Maybe it's still lingering somewhere back there," Archer sighed and pointed at his temple.

"That may well be, although I doubt that. It would explain some of the envy you felt, when seeing Commanders Tucker and T'Pol in a situation like that. I believe, however, you are experiencing something much more taxing: loneliness."

Archer just nodded with a frustrated expression.

"Commander Tucker was once your best friend, but he turned to T'Pol for help, while you secluded yourself. And you have no family. As your doctor and a friend, I can give you only one advice. Remove the reason for your current predicament before it grows into a depression. I'd say you are not very far from it now."

"I know, Phlox. I've been pondering to resign from Starfleet for a while now."

"Why should you resign? After more than four years of heroic service, Starfleet would be extremely ungrateful if they would deny you a year or two of hiatus. Or maybe you could take a post at Starfleet Command?"

Archer had a far away look and didn't answer the doctor immediately.

"You're right Phlox. Please don't speak with anyone of the crew, I want to tell them myself."

"What has been said here stays here, you know that. But please promise me something. If you have symptoms like today again, report back to sickbay."

"What symptoms?"

"Did you deliberately violate the privacy of your senior officers?"

"No, I didn't even plan to come to sickbay. I just happened, somehow," Archer admitted with embarrassment.

"That's what I'm talking about. Although you're not as close as you once were, Commander Tucker is still your friend. You feel isolated and you start to get depressed, you sought the presence of a friend, even if he's unconscious. I'll give you this mild anti-depressant," Phlox explained and administered a hypo-spray. "I think we should set up a daily consultation. It doesn't have to be long, but I would like to monitor your psychological condition."

"We'll do that, thanks Phlox. Hope you're not angry anymore."

"I never was. If I had just ushered you away, we wouldn't have had that discussion. You would have left and your problem would continue. I had to be a bit... creative to get you to open up"

"So you expected me to come here?"

"No, it was a somewhat lucky coincidence. I would have had to approach you however in not to distant a future, but that would have been most likely for the purpose of declaring you unfit for duty."

"You're one helluva doc, Phlox."

"You're welcome."

Phlox look relieved that he was spared the task of relieving Archer from command – for now. With a sense of having forgotten something – again – he returned to his analysis.

=/\=

"Doc?"

Malcolm and Hoshi walked into sickbay in the early morning.

"Ah, Lieutenant, Ensign. What can I do for you?"

"We couldn't find Commander T'Pol and when we did a scan, we found her here," Hoshi answered. "Two days ago Trip and T'Pol told us of their... connection and that it might be necessary to put her in close contact with him to help him heal. When we saw that exactly that had been done, it got us worried about how serious Trip's condition is."

"They told you that they're bonded?"

"Yes, Doctor. Probably not every minute detail, but quite a lot. So how does it look. There biosign were awfully weak when we did the scan," Malcolm added.

"They trust you a lot to give you that much information."

"We're friends doc. They actually gave us permission to inform you should anything happen to them, but you seem to know it already."

"I do. Don't worry Mr. Reed. The biosign is so weak, because she has initiated a healing trance. In fact, Commander T'Pol is making excellent progress. She is expending a lot of energy, but if the recuperation continues as it is, they'll awake by the evening."

"Can we see them?" Hoshi asked.

"Considering that they trust you so much, you can, but be cautioned, their posture may look somewhat... intimate."

"Trust me Doctor, even those two just looking at each other can be utterly intimate," Malcolm answered with a smile as Phlox indicated them where their biobed was.

Hoshi quickly grabbed the blanket and put it over their friends sparsely clothed figures, wondering, why Phlox hadn't done that.

"Even when they're out of it you can see just how bad they've got it for each other," Hoshi whispered as a single tear of emotion ran down her cheek.

"Yeah, would you have though that a Vulcan would be as romantic as to put herself in trance while kissing his neck?" Malcolm took Hoshi's hand as they watched their friends in their peaceful slumber.

"Phlox, had it a specific reason, why they where without the blanket?" Malcolm asked when they came back from behind the screens. "I don't think that T'Pol would be most pleased to come back from that trance, knowing that she'd been flashing her underwear all day."

"How could I have forgotten **that**?" Phlox gasped and started to race towards the biobed.

"Don't fret it, Doc. We noticed in time," Malcolm reassured the shocked Denobulan with an encouraging smile.

Hoshi and Malcolm left to start their shift.

=/\=

"Morning, Captain," Hoshi and Malcolm greeted as they entered the bridge.

Shortly after having taken the com console, Hoshi turned towards Archer. "We're being hailed. It's Shran."

"On screen."

"I see you have done half my job already, pink-skin."

"Always eager to help, Shran. Good to see you again."

"Are some of your own people on that ship?"

"A detachment of MACO's; we boarded and apprehended them. Minister T'Pau told us that Andoria considers them criminals."

"They are. Get your people out and tell me when you have them," Shran requested grimly.


	5. Intoxication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archer and Shran taste some ale and Trip enjoys a private tutoring lesson with Soval...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken T'Pol's hillarious clan-name from Transwarp's fantastic "Tucker Chronicles" series. It's a fantastic read. You can find it pn Triaxian Silk and ff.net

"Transporter to Bridge, we have them all," Lt. Anna Hess reported as soon as Sergeant Cole and Corporal Randall, the last two to return from the rogue Andorian ship, had materialized.

"Acknowledged," Archer answered and turned to Hoshi. "Hail Shran."

"Shran, our people are out," he hailed when the familiar blue face appeared on the screen. Shran just nodded wordlessly and his face disappeared again.

In stunned silence the bridge crew looked at the screen, showing how 3 torpedoes and several blasts of phaser fire ripped the attacker to shreds. After destroying them, Shran's ship flew over to the T'Planit and its grapplers latched on to it.

"Shran's hailing us again."

"On screen."

"I know that looked strange to you," Shran reported calmly. "If you allow me and my Vulcan passenger to come aboard your ship, I'll explain everything."

"Granted, I'll meet you at the airlock," Archer returned and gave a nod to Malcolm. "You have the bridge Lieutenant. Hoshi, come with me."

"Aye, Sir."

=/\=

" _Peace and long life_ ," Hoshi greeted in Vulcan with a perfectly executed Ta'al

" _Live long an prosper,"_ the tall Vulcan returned.

"Welcome aboard _Enterprise_ ," Archer said with a polite nod. "I am Captain Jonathan Archer, this is Ensign Hoshi Sato, our Communications officer."

"My name is Keslak. I am the healer sent by the High Council to help the surviving crew of the _T'Planit_."

"We are sorry to report that there were only 3 survivors and they are all in bad condition, but we hope you can help them."

"Would you direct me to your medical facilities?"

"Ensign Sato will accompany you and show you the way to sickbay."

Wordlessly Keslak turned and followed Hoshi.

"Welcome back, Shran."

"Always a pleasure to meet you, pinkskin," Shran returned and produced a bottle of Andorian ale from his pocket.

"Why did I expect that?" Archer answered with a chuckle.

=/\=

Hoshi and Keslak entered sickbay and saw Dr. Phlox checking the readouts of one of the rescued Vulcan's biosign. The good Doctor looked worried.

"Doctor," Hoshi opened. "This is healer Keslak. He came to help you."

"Welcome in sickbay, I am Doctor Phlox," he answered, remarkably emotionless for his normally sunny disposition.

"How is their condition?" Keslak asked, while Hoshi excused herself to go back to the bridge.

"They are all in a healing trance. Ambassador Soval is slowly, but steadily improving, his neurological activity is steady and well-balanced. The other two survivors appear to be in a healing trance for the first time in their life and would most likely profit from your guidance."

"You are quite knowledgeable about healing trances," Keslak noticed with an elevated eyebrow.

"I was working with Vulcan healers for almost two decades, as part of the interspecies medical exchange, your people trusted me with many things that are rarely spoken of, much less with off-worlders."

"I see," Keslak started, but was interrupted by Phlox.

"If you would excuse me for a moment, I'm being hailed."

Keslak answered with a nod and Phlox dashed off into his small private cabinet. Seeing the encryption indicator, he closed the door, before answering.

=/\=

"One moment," Archer said with a raised hand, when Shran started to fill the glasses with the blue liquid.

Pressing the encryption button, he hailed Sickbay.

"This is Phlox,"

"Phlox, this is the Captain. I've got an... invitation from Shran. Would that mess with the medication, you gave me last night?"

"No, not after so many hours. But I would like to caution you to cut back on the quantity, after your last encounter with Shran's ale both of you were not in the best of shapes."

"OK, thanks, Phlox" Archer answered, smiling at the memory how Phlox and Trip had to drag both him and Shran to their quarters as a result of a somewhat lengthy ale-drinking evening after their return from the Aenar.

"What's wrong, you're ill?"

"Later Shran," Archer said and raised his glass. "First, what is it with your little demonstration out there?"

"Those... criminals were members of a northern clan. They were rather influential until the time we started the Coalition talks. Since then, more and more peace-minded clans, who support the alliance, have come to influence due to public support. They had them out of all significant positions within two months."

"I can see that they weren't exactly happy about that," Archer agreed, taking the PADD with the official report from Shran.

"They stole two Kumari-class cruisers and partnered with the Orions. They ran errand missions for them in exchange for weapons and upgrades to their ships."

"That explains why the power signature didn't match."

"They also attacked Vulcan ships and murdered the crews, hoping to reignite the resentments between our people. When the Vulcans contacted us, we gave them all information we had and started to cooperate with them. We even flew joint missions to get them."

"Well, at least something good came out of it."

"Indeed. The ship that you disabled was actually the second of their ships. The first one was the ship who attacked the _T'Planit_. Evidently, the Vulcans gave almost as good as they got and had the bastards battered pretty well. They tried to limp home to their green friends and brought the second ship in to finish the job."

"So there's still one out there?"

"No. The _Ni'Vahr_ and my vessel destroyed them 3 days ago. The Vulcans also gave us their doctor to bring here, to treat possible survivors. We will bring the ship back to the Vulcans."

"Why wouldn't the _Ni'Vahr_ just come here?"

"The Vulcan High Council wanted Andoria to finish the job. They hope that it is good for the relations between our people, when the Vulcans can see Andorians helping them."

"Would've never pegged T'Pau for a PR manager," Archer said with a chuckle.

"You know her?"

"Yeah, took a hike through the desert with her once. She can be quite reckless, almost fried my brain, trying to get Surak's katra out of me."

" **You** were the human who had the katra?" Shran asked in disbelief.

"Yep, not an experience I care to repeat. But he obviously liked it up there," Archer smiled and pointed at his temple. "Else he would've just gone to possess T'Pau."

"I never thought I'd say that about a Vulcan, but she's some fine looking woman, although her hairdresser should entertain the idea of a job change," Shran smirked and emptied his glass.

"Looks like you **really** want to improve relations with the Vulcans."

"Are you crazy? Jhamel would forget that she's a pacifist if I just thought about that."

"What a minute, you and Jhamel..."

"Are a pair," Shran completed. "My friends are already taking bets what color our offspring will have."

"Ten bucks on green," Archer quipped and both men started laughing.

"One question though," Archer continued. "I can understand that your government is pissed with those pirates, but don't you guys believe in the concept of putting someone on trial?"

"They were sentenced to death in absentia a month ago already."

"Good to know. So looks like they gave you a new ship after all."

"No, they didn't. The _Tha'marat_ is mine only for this one mission. In fact, it's my last mission."

"The Imperial Guard must be out of their minds. They give you the boot for losing the _Kumari_?"

"She was the flagship. That's just our way, losing a flagship is a dishonor. For my merits in forging relations with you pink... with humans, I was granted one last mission to determine whether I would leave the Guard in honor or shame."

"Well at least that's taken care of. Might be my last mission, too – at least for a while – but Starfleet would never kick out a captain for losing a ship to a superior attacker."

"Your last mission?"

"That's the reason for my 'illness'. Having a rough time. No family, not many friends anymore. I need a timeout, badly."

"Well from all I know about humans, you should have offspring already at your age."

"The oldest would already be dating – if I had any," Archer sighed. "You nailed the point. There's only so many years you can go without a family."

"You should throw away your stupid rules about forbidding relationships between crew members. Not even the Imperial Guard is that cruel."

"Well, we did. Trip is now dating T'Pol and my tactical and communications officers are an item as well."

"Your Chief Engineer and the Vulcan are a pair?"

"Yeah, as of one week ago."

"That explains why she was so comfortable around him when I was aboard."

Archer started laughing.

"What?" Shran asked.

"Hell, even Andorians saw it coming before they got the clue themselves."

"Well, I'm a good observer."

"Anyways, seeing a Vulcan and a human walk arm in arm in the corridor really nails it home that something's missing in your life."

"Well, if you don't have those rule anymore, what's keeping you from taking any of the women on board as your mate?"

"It's not that easy Shran. There actually is someone who would fit the job description, but she's married to Starfleet now that our second NX ship is flying, just like me. The damnedest thing that can happen to you is falling for a Starfleet Captain," Archer said in a dejected mood.

=/\=

Ending his mind-meld with Ambassador Soval, Keslak assessed the situation.

"His energy has nearly been exhausted, but the Ambassador shall awake from his trance within hours. His wounds have healed satisfactorily, but it will take several weeks to regain full use of his right arm."

"That matches my assessment," Phlox agreed. "What is the situation of the other survivors?"

"Their healing is slow, due to their inexperience. I shall guide them, but before I take on such a taxing task, I wish to meditate. Do you know where Captain Archer has set up accommodation for me?"

"Crewman Zettler will show you the way, but before you go, I would like to ask you to take a look at a human patient. He is in a Vulcan-assisted healing trance."

"As you wish," Keslak answered, not showing his surprise.

"A word of warning. The situation might look slightly disturbing to a Vulcan."

=/\=

"You fell for Captain Hernandez?" Shran asked with a worried face.

"Yeah, you know her?"

"I met her a week ago. I don't think she'll be flying any missions anytime soon."

"What do you mean?"

"About a week ago we saw her ship being attacked by a Klingon warship. She asked for assistance and the Vulcans and we helped her destroy the Klingons. When we came aboard after the battle, she was in sickbay in very critical condition."

Archer buried his face in his palms.

"Don't worry, pink skin. Their doctor said she will survive, although it will take months to heal. They are taking her back to Earth. Her ship was heavily damaged as well."

Sighing heavily Archer declined, when Shran tried to refill his glass. "Better not, or I'll end up as wasted as last time."

"Maybe it wasn't so bad an idea after all, wanting to get away from the ship for a time. If she feels the same for you, she could surely use your help now," Shran offered.

"Yeah, don't know how Gardner will feel about losing two Captains at once, though. They might deny my request."

"Maybe they are more open to the idea if you bring a new one in?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm entertaining the idea of signing up with you humans now that the Imperial Guard doesn't value my services anymore."

"They'll probably throw themselves at your feet. I doubt they would give you a ship immediately, though."

"Well, that's obvious. From what I saw, they'll probably give the _Enterprise_ to your Vulcan and, if they gave Hernadez's ship to me, you would have both your ships with alien captains. I have no problem with waiting a while. I'll have to go through some sort of training anyways."

"That's for sure. But sure as hell, they'll be happy to nail some pips to your collar."

"How many ships do they plan to build?"

"Although you're on your last mission, you're still a member of a foreign organization. That's still classified," Archer replied with a lopsided grin. "But trust me, it'll be enough ships that they will start begging you to take command at some point. We have way less captain material than ships in the pipeline."

"Sounds good to me," Shran answered.

=/\=

"Was this human's condition so critical that the female felt it justified to bring herself into such a shameful position?" Keslak asked and failed to hide all of the shock in his voice.

"There is nothing shameful in two bond-mates sharing a healing trance, even if their positioning is somewhat intimate out of neccessity."

"Your information about Vulcan bonds are faulty. A priest is needed to initiate a bond and no priest would shame himself by facilitating such a union."

"Please follow me to my office," Phlox requested calmly, despite the anger growing inside him. After closing the privacy screens again, he led the Vulcan to his room.

"Healer Keslak, I cannot and I will not accept the implications and the condemnation in your words. There is absolutely nothing shameful about the bond between Commander Tucker and Commander T'Pol. To my knowledge, they have never used the service of a priest. If I was informed correctly on the matter, a bond that has formed without the initiating mind-meld is considered a very blessed and desirable occurrence. If your prejudiced views do not allow you to help them, we won't require your help any longer."

Despite all efforts, Healer Keslak failed again to hide all the shock from his features, as he took delivery of the first ever dressing down in his life.

"I do apologize, Doctor Phlox. You were quite right in your observation that I would find the situation disturbing. My control failed me momentarily. Bond-mates of different species are unheard of on Vulcan."

"Or unspoken of," Dr. Phlox added. "I accept your apology. Crewman Zettler will guide you to your quarters, you appear to be in need of meditation."

"Indeed."

=/\=

About an hour after the confrontation Phlox was alarmed by a groan from Ambassador Soval's biobed. He raced over to look.

"Ah, Ambassador, it appears you are back with us."

"Doctor Phlox?"

"The very same. You are aboard the _Enterprise_."

Quickly putting the pieces together, Soval inquired about the fate of the other crew.

"Unfortunately, only two other members of your crew survived. They are still in a healing trance, but Healer Keslak is taking care of them."

"Keslak is here?"

"Yes, he is meditating in preparation for the mind-melds with the other survivors. Do you know him?"

"Yes, I have met more... agreeable members of my species. He is a most competent healer, but his character can be... taxing."

"To my regret he has already proven that, but you should not concern yourself with such things. Are you in pain?"

"Yes, but it is bearable. I cannot move my right arm."

"I know. We had to perform surgery that repaired the muscles, which were cut by the phaser blast. To speed up your recovery, we had to temporarily paralyze it. You should regain full use of it within the next two or three weeks. Is there anything else I could do for you?"

"If you would open those screens. I wish to have a clear view at the display. The steady blinking of the indicators will help me reach a state of much needed meditation."

"As you wish."

=/\=

Soval was roused from meditation by whispering from a nearby biobed.

"Well, hi there darlin'."

"Are you well?"

"Waking up like that, what do you think?"

"That is not what I meant. Are you in pain?"

"Tad sore, considering that I was a mattress for however long I was out of it."

Soval had identified Commander Tucker by his unmistakable southern dialect and T'Pol's voice was hard to miss. So far the conversation had not made much sense, especially the strange mattress metaphor. For any other Vulcan, listening to their conversation would have been unseemly, but his interest was justified. He was her _toz'ot_.

"I will get Doctor Phlox."

Soval heard the human hum, while another rustling sound was heard.

Stepping out behind a nearby set of privacy screens, she called out for Phlox in a lowered voice and Soval's shock was complete when he saw that she was in the closing moments of zipping up her uniform. _She has been disrobed._

Trying to shift his position, Soval failed to suppress a groan as he felt a sharp pain.

"That you Ambassador?" came the inquiry from behind the screens.

"Indeed it is me, Commander."

"Thank god. At least engineering didn't blow up for nothing. I'm glad you made it. How 'ya doing?"

"I am well commander, do not concern yourself."

Hearing Soval's voice T'Pol walked into his direction, when she came back with Doctor Phlox in tow.

"It is agreeable to see you."

"It is agreeable to see you as well T'Pol- _kan_. Were you here to visit Commander Tucker?"

"In a way."

"A way that required removing your uniform?" Soval asked in a lowered but stern voice.

"Nothing untoward has been done, Uncle, but this is not the time to speak of it. You need rest."

"Indeed."

T'Pol disappeared behind the privacy screens, that hid Commander Tucker.

"So Doc, what's the verdict? Am I gonna live?"

"Of course, Commander. I would not want to loose my best customer."

"A very unflattering honor," T'Pol remarked dryly and Soval wondered since when T'Pol had become so adept at human humor."

"Darlin' can you get me something to eat? I could eat a horse." _There was it again, this human appellation. They appeared to be involved in an intimate relationship._

"Even with my superior strength, I doubt I would be able to carry such creature here and it would most likely violently oppose such an action. I'm afraid you will have to satisfy yourself with pie or whatever other meals Chef has left at this time."

_She even lost her instinctive repulsion at the thought of consuming meat. Hopefully she at least does not consume it._

"Maybe you should first help Commander Tucker to his quarters. He is weakened but he will surely **rest** better there than in sickbay."

"That sounds good, doc. Whoa..."

"Be careful. You are still affected by the concussion. Your sense of balance is still disturbed. You must also drink a lot of water – you were severely dehydrated. Use this hypospray if the pain in your ribs becomes too severe."

"Thanks, I'll do Doc."

Soval watched on in surprise as Commander Tucker hobbled from behind the screens, steadied by having his arm slung around T'Pol's neck, while she had her hand protectively on the small of his back. She showed no sign of protesting this exceedingly intimate closeness.

"Get well soon, Ambassador," Trip said when he caught a glimpse of Soval.

"Thank you, Commander."

=/\=

Two days had gone since his discharge from sickbay and Trip fumbled with one of the meditation candles. _Damn! These numb fingers really get on my nerves!_

The door chime interrupted his mental rant.

"Come."

Soval entered the quarters with a surprised look, his right arm was fixed in a sling.

"Ambassador, good to see ya. How ya doing?"

"I am well. My arm is still paralyzed, but it will recover. I was told this is T'Pol's cabin."

"It is and it also happens to be mine. She'll be back in about an hour. Care for some tea? Take a seat."

Soval looked around. The cabin appeared to be spacious and the bed was obviously designed for more than one occupant.

"Not at the moment, Commander. Does that mean you and T'Pol live together in this cabin?"

"Of course. Isn't that what bond-mates are supposed to do?"

"I might need a seat after all," Soval said dryly.

"Not meaning to be offensive, but none of this would really be any of your business if I understand Vulcan customs of privacy even halfway right.

"Indeed. But not in my case. T'Pol's father was my brother."

"You are T'Pol's uncle?" Trip asked in openly displayed surprise.

"I am. As his older brother, it became my responsibility to make sure of her well-being when _V'Nur_ died. As you can see, I have a justified interest in the situation."

"Now that's news," Trip mused, placing the cup carefully into Soval's left hand.

"I am surprised that T'Pol did not inform me about her plans to perform a bonding ceremony."

"That's because she didn't. We only found out that we're bonded a couple of weeks ago, when we were separated by my transfer to _Columbia_. Looks like we didn't need a priest. She says that's because she found 'the One', whatever that is."

"It means she found her eternal soul-mate. It is considered a blessing and almost unheard of since the Time of Awakening," Soval explained; only the extensive experience in emotional control acquired in decades of disciplined training prevented him from showing his amazement at the situation. He decided that the logical course of action would be testing and completing the human's knowledge about the Vulcan ways now that he would become part of their clan.

"Sounds really cool, who would've thought that Vulcans have a romantic streak,“ Trip said with a smile. “But with your arranged marriages, I can see a lot of people missing out on their soul-mates."

"Indeed. Before the Time of Awakening, many Vulcans were in search of their eternal soul-mate and most of them failed. When their first _plak tow_ took them over, they died because they were without a mate. Logic dictates not to waste one's life like that in search of what will rarely be found. That is where the tradition of arranged marriages originated, when Vulcans embraced logic."

"To make sure they had a mate when that _plak tow_ hit 'em?"

"Yes."

"What is a _plak tow_?"

"It is the blood fever. It overcomes us during a time called _pon-farr,_ which comes upon every Vulcan male, every seven years. We loose all reason and logic and are driven to mate. If we don't mate, we are killed by the blood fever."

 _And I thought I was horny,_ Trip thought before speaking. "So that's where the seven year thing comes from. Does T'Pol get that, too?"

"Yes, but only once. When a Vulcan female reaches the age of fertility, she experiences her one and only _pon-farr._ T'Pol is nearing that age."

"How long does this _pon-farr_ thing last?"

"Usually between two and three days."

"Uh-oh, I better start working out, she's demanding enough as she is," Trip muttered before realizing what he had just said. "Sorry, Ambassador, that was... probably just a bit too much detail."

"It is illogical to further address me by a formal title,” ignoring Trip's unintended provision of details. With your bonding to T'Pol, you became a member of our clan,  
 _Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n._ "

"Good thing we're not required to wear name tags," Trip chuckled. "That's gonna need me an extra PADD, just to sign an engineering report. So will you call me Trip then?"

"Most unlikely. T'Rip is a female Vulcan name. I doubt you wish to be addressed as a female."

"Never knew that. That's why it took T'Pol almost 3 years to call me that."

"T'Pol is more adaptable than most Vulcans, yet she will most likely not use that appellation in presence of any other Vulcans."

"More tea?" Trip asked, seeing Soval's empty cup.

"No, thank you. You and T'Pol have chosen a difficult path."

"That's for sure. Phlox told me that this Vulcan Healer Keslak got quite upset, when he saw me and T'Pol on that biobed and I'm sure that many humans won't be thrilled either."

"Keslak's reaction is unsurprising. His character is questionable at best. I believe humans will adapt considerably faster to your union than Vulcans will."

"Maybe, but I'll have to face the music on Vulcan anyways. I wouldn't wanna keep T'Pol off her homeworld forever."

"She may always go alone. Your bond will allow you to stay together – parting and never parted, touching and never touched."

"Sounds all mighty funny, but humans aren't telepaths. T'Pol thinks her mind tickled some crude telepathy into my brain, when it reached out to me, but that's nothing in contrast to a Vulcan. T'Pol can sense my emotions most of the time, but I can just about sense her presence in my mind."

"How often has T'Pol performed a mind-meld with you?"

"Never, actually. Guess she's not very fond of it, ever since that bastard from the _V'tosh K'atur_ tried to mind-rape her."

"Her mind was violated?"

"Oops, I somehow get the idea I've just told you something she didn't want you to know."

"It is illogical to hide such thing. She could contract the _Pa'nar_ syndrome from such a violation."

"She did. And from what I learned, having that syndrome was one mighty bad stigma until Jon dug up the _Kir'Shara_."

"It was and it is most likely the reason for her silence about this event. She would have shamed the clan according to the perverted views of V'Las' High Command. Now that mind-melds are no longer considered shameful acts and Pa'nar no longer stigmatized, we shall have to find her a cure."

"You're a bit late for that. Minister T'Pau cured her, when they crossed the Forge."

"It is gratifying to see that you know so much about her life, even without a mind-meld."

"Well, what can I say? I've been laid up here for 2 days. We had an awful lot of time to talk. Why did you ask about T'Pol mind-melding with me?"

"You said that T'Pol's mind taught your brain to adapt to some primitive telepathic abilities. If that theory is correct, the intense connection of your minds during a meld could greatly enhance that effect. If you would allow, I wish to perform a mind-meld to examine your mind's potential for telepathy."

"I don't know how T'Pol's feeling about me melding around with other Vulcans. And, besides, I thought your right arm was numb."

"A mind-meld can be performed with either hand and a mind-meld between clansmen is not improper."

"Well,” Trip said with an inviting gesture, “you're the expert. Go ahead."

 


	6. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of changes are coming to the Enterprise

"How long, Travis?"

"At our current speed, 2 days, sir."

"OK. According to Admiral Gardner, we'll have to stay in orbit around Earth for about 10 days. The space dock is occupied by _Columbia_ – they had a less than friendly encounter with a Klingon warbird."

"Can't we get a break at least for once?" Trip groaned. "First the Xindi, then human Augments, Vulcan terrorists, then Klingon Augments. I'm starting to feel like the skinny kid in a schoolyard full of bullies."

"I know, Trip. The Vulcans have some diplomatic channels with the Klingons and their Council claims that it was not an officially sanctioned mission. Some Captain Q'orh apparently lost a son in the fight to _Columbia_ while we were trying to get Phlox back from the Qu'Vat colony."

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

"Since when do you need my permission to do that, T'Pol? Go ahead."

"Let's 'cut to the chase'. I doubt you assembled all of us here to tell us about the misadventures of Captain Hernandez' ship. The last time you asked Doctor Phlox to attend a staff meeting, you told us about 7 million casualties on Earth." If it wasn't for the amused faces around her, T'Pol wouldn't have even realized that she had used one of Trip's phrases without thinking.

"Trip, you are ruining our first officer," Archer quipped with a smile.

"Let's hope she'll not start to swear in Russian," Hoshi added to the good-natured ribbing of their friends.

"Back to the topic," Archer continued. "It's nowhere near as bad as last time. So according to the wishes of our first officer, we'll skip to the big news. I'm leaving _Enterprise_."

The room went silent.

"Leaving the ship as in going on vacation?" Trip asked in disbelief.

"Leaving as in going to take a hiatus for a year," Archer corrected and all faces except one wore a distinct expression of shock. As no verbal reply was forthcoming, Archer continued his explanation.

"For the last two weeks and to a degree ever since the Xindi mission, I've been experiencing problems and Phlox suggested that I take a time-out. Admiral Gardner has accepted my request and he will decide about my successor when Enterprise reaches Earth orbit."

"Will you return?" T'Pol asked.

"Most likely, but not to _Enterprise_. Starfleet has laid down keel for another 5 NX-class ships, most of which will be completed within the next 15 months. In about a year, the NX-05 _Atlantis_ will be completed. That will most likely be my next ship. I have it on good word that you are in the running for NX-07 _Buran_ , Malcolm, so behave while I'm gone. I'm told you may even pick the communications officer yourself," the captain explained with a smile.

Trip, seated left of T'Pol, felt T'Pol's hand lightly tapping against his leg. Looking down, he saw how T'Pol used her index finger to first point at the captain, then in his direction. A barely perceptible nod was his signal of having understood her covert message.

"How can I even be in the running when Trip and T'Pol are certainly far ahead of me – unless you two are planning on leaving as well?" Malcolm asked with a questioning look at Trip.

"Well, lets say that _Enterprise_ 's next Captain is most likely already on the ship," Archer interrupted.

"Why so many new ships?" Travis asked.

"The Vulcan High Council and Starfleet agree that those Romulan drone-ships were only testing the waters. And if only half of what the _V'Shar_ told us is true, they'll make our fight with the Xindi look like a lovers quarrel."

"Nice, another war," Trip sighed.

"Not yet, Trip. Starfleet hopes that the establishing of the Coalition and the build-up of a bigger fleet will discourage them from taking any action soon, but the conflict will most likely come at some point."

"Back to business," Archer continued. "T'Pol, you will be in command as of 1400 today until a new captain can be assigned. Please advise your respective departments that two weeks of shore leave have been granted to all members of the crew who have been on _Enterprise_ for at least a year. The others will stay on board and make up the skeleton crew in orbit."

A nod from all officers signaled their understanding.

"Last on my list is a personal request. In a few weeks, Thy'lek Shran will apply for a commission in Starfleet. We all know how often he has rescued our butts, so I'd like to ask you all to help him where you can."

"I am perturbed that you felt it necessary to even ask us that," T'Pol replied dryly. "Everyone of us will support him whenever the opportunity presents itself."

"Thank you, T'Pol. He would have liked to hear that, especially coming from you. I'll address the crew at 1300. That'll be all."

"A quick word, Cap'n," Trip asked as the other officers filed out of the room.

"What is it, Trip."

"Knowing T'Pol, she'll probably work until the wee hours in the morning to make sure she's the most effective acting Captain Starfleet's seen since its inception," both men shared a chuckle. "So why don't ya drop by in the evening for a long overdue talk between friends? How's 2000 sound?"

"Sounds good, Trip. I'll be there."

=/\=

A loud klaxon signaled a ship-wide announcement as Captain Archer prepared for his last speech in the privacy of his ready room.

"To all crew of the NX-01 _Enterprise_ , this is Captain Jonathan Archer. Effective today, the 4th of January 2155 at 1400 hours, I'm handing over command of the ship to Commander T'Pol of Vulcan. Commander Charles Tucker III is assigned the duty as acting First Officer. My assignment to this ship ends with the passing of command," Archer announced and his voice was thick with emotion.

"Three years and 9 months ago, we began our journey into the unknown. We wanted to explore, make new friends and see strange new worlds. Like a child that ventures out into the wide world for the first time without the guidance of its parents, we hit many bumps along the way and not all species appreciated our outstretched hand. "

"There was a constant however – the dedication and the enthusiasm of this crew. Without these qualities, my captaincy of this ship would have ended much earlier than today. My deep felt gratitude reaches out to all of you and to all who are not with us today because they gave their lives to protect this ship and its mission. I wish you and _Enterprise_ a safe journey into the future. Godspeed _Enterprise._ "

The mess hall was packed with crew members, who all stood at attention and listened to the final speech of Captain Archer. He had audibly succumbed to tears before the end of his announcement and so had most of his audience. On the bridge, Commander T'Pol of Vulcan stood in front of the big chair, which in less than an hour would, however temporarily, be her rightful place. Hands firmly clasped behind her back, listening to the announcement, a tear of emotion ran down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away. It would be wrong to hide it and she had long since given up the pretense of 'Vulcans don't have emotions'. After 4 years with this crew, most had seen one form reaction or another anyway.

It was only a short twitch of his face, but for a man as disciplined as Soval it revealed an onslaught of many strong emotions. He had chosen to stay in the privacy of his guest quarters to listen to the speech of the man he initially – how would Charles describe it? – 'resented the hell out of'. He had lost count of how often he had caught himself pondering things in human terms and it had nothing to do with the new-found information that Charles Tucker was now a member of his clan or his long time between humans, none of that was even remotely responsible for it. But this was a knowledge he could not share with anyone.

T'Pol noticed how Trip darted towards the ready room to console his distressed friend, but she called out to him. Stopping he looked at her with a tear-stained face.

"He needs to be alone for a while," she explained in a breaking voice.

=/\=

"Come in, Jon."

"Evening, Trip."

"Beer?"

"You're lucky that I'm not the skipper anymore or I'd have to investigate where that came from," Archer answered with a chuckle.

"I have my sources, and, just for your information, I have the permission of your successor. I seem to get along well with her."

"So how were your first hours as the Captain's boyfriend?"

"Haven't seen her much. Told you she'd be neck-deep in preparations as soon as you were out the door," Trip said as Jon took a seat on the sofa.

"Perhaps you should learn from her, I have a hunch that you will be in that chair soon."

"I hope not. I'm gonna fight tooth-and-nails against it."

"Pardon? Trip when we launched, all you had in mind was getting an own ship."

"That was then, Jon, before the Expanse. That's when I saw what commanding a star ship can do to you. Don't think we're fooled for a second about the reason of your hiatus."

"Erika needs me; she's in bad shape," Archer sighed.

"So are you, Jon. You need her as much as she needs you. You need each other the same way as me and T'Pol. We've got eyes in our heads."

"Since when did you become a psychologist?"

"Ever since my best friend withdrew after he had to make some very ugly decisions. I'm really sorry that I couldn't be there for you. I was too messed up myself to be any help," Trip admitted sadly.

"You've got nothing to feel guilty for. And if it wasn't for T'Pol, you'd probably be even more messed up than I am now. I'll come back around, don't worry. Just need to get away from everything for a while."

"Hope things work out for you and Erika. She's a fine lady."

"That she is," Archer said as they clinked bottles. "And she's an even better psychoanalyst than you. She told me about your first day aboard _Columbia_ and she knew exactly why you had finally agreed to transfer to her ship."

"Was it that obvious?"

"Not to me, no, but to her it was. The way you looked at her when she asked you to change the patch on your uniform – she knew immediately that _Columbia_ was not where you wanted to be."

"Well, _Enterprise_ is my home. That Columbia patch felt like an ulcer on my arm."

"What changed your mind?"

"About what?"

"About staying there. As I recall you weren't away very long," Archer inquired with a smile.

"Well, you know **why** I came back – I don't care to board a ship like that ever again, by the way – but then we did that cold start routine and I knew, she had changed."

"T'Pol?`"

"Yeah. I came into engineering and, guess what, the ship's about to blow up and the first thing we do is banter with each other."

"I'm really going to miss that."

"Then I showed off a bit and told her that I'm gonna cycle the engine in under 2 minutes. She said it's not possible and I gave her the macho and just said 'watch me'."

"Let me guess, being the logical Vulcan, she did just that."

"And how. I'm amazed I had even time to notice it, but, when I climbed down them stairs after blowing all the relays up, I caught her look and I swear, I have no idea why I didn't just freeze like a deer in the headlights. She was practically mooning."

"Wow, never would have pegged T'Pol for a high school girl gushing over a handsome southern gentleman," Archer laughed, while Trip handed out the second round of beer.

"Seriously Jon, those eyes have more fire in 'em than those fire plains she showed me on Vulcan. Hoshi told me that T'Pol and I zoned out a couple times during our dinner, just staring into each others eyes and Mal said it was so hot he'd started to look for a fire extinguisher."

Archer roared with laughter. "You know what? A.G. said something similar about me and Erika a couple of years ago. He said when we danced they always feared they had to hose down the place afterwards"

"I never understood why you didn't just piss all over that no-frat crap and stayed together when you got your fourth pip. She had always been good for you."

"Well, I only learned later and the hard way that you have to bend the rules sometimes. Had I stuck with my ideals, we would never have made it out of the Expanse. But it came at a price. If it weren't for Erika, I would have thrown in the towel after the Xindi mission. When we started, I was hell bent on doing things by the book."

"You're a good Captain, always were, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I hope T'Pol will be the new captain because she's the only one who can fill your shoes."

"Don't count on it. A Vulcan as Captain is a tough sell, even if she's one helluva hero."

"Well, someone's gotta remind them that we're allies now with 3 other species and probably more to come. Remember the upheaval when the first non-American became president of United Earth? Even today Noskov is universally seen as the best damn president we've ever had."

"Hope Starfleet sees it that way. T'Pol would really deserve it," Jon agreed.

"What with Shran in the pipeline as well, they better get used to aliens on the bridge in a damn hurry."

"Well, you always were an optimist Trip," Archer smiled.

"Wait a minute," Trip said and took out his communicator. "Commander Tucker to acting Captain T'Pol."

"T'Pol here."

"Permission to get the show on the road?"

"Permission granted. ETA 2115 hours."

Ten minutes later the cabin door was opened and a steward rolled in a trolley with dishes for a full-blown dinner, followed by Malcolm, T'Pol and Hoshi.

"Jonathan, I hereby declare your going away banquet opened," T'Pol remarked casually and Archer choked up tears again. He was surprised when T'Pol joined her human shipmates in giving him a hug.

=/\=

Captain Jonathan Archer entered the office that once belonged to his good friend Maxwell Forrest.

"Admiral, Captain Jonathan Archer, reporting as ordered."

"Welcome back, Jon. Have a seat," Gardner answered with a friendly face.

"Thanks."

"How are you?"

"I'm OK. Just came back from seeing Erika for the first time. Those Klingon bastards mauled her pretty badly. She's still in artificial coma."

"I know. Just got word from the docs yesterday. They say it'll be about 6 months until she can be discharged again. And you'll be relieved to hear that her eyesight will return within the next 2 or 3 months and it'll be fully restored. That neurological therapy of the Vulcans seems to do wonders."

"I'm happy about that, but I guess you didn't just call me here to pass on the good news."

"Yes and no. I knew the docs wouldn't tell you much, so I would've called you here anyways, even if it were just for the news."

"Thanks Admiral."

"There's something else. I want you to rethink that whole hiatus thing."

"Admiral, you know, why I decided that..."

"That's the official reason, Jon. Everybody with half a brain knows that the only cure you need is going by the surname of Hernandez, at least until you finally manage to pop the question. And I'll make sure personally that you two get to spend as much time together as humanly possible."

Archer looked down, somewhat embarrassed.

"Now that we have word that she can actually return to active duty at some time, we changed our plans. When she's fit again, Erika will take command of _Atlantis_. What we have in mind for you is to attend joint seminars with the Vulcans, Andorians, Tellarites and the Xindi-Primates to get this whole Coalition thing rolling. You have half a year to go until you qualify for a flag-officer rank, but you must be on active duty, not on a glorified vacation."

"You want to promote me?"

"Yes. You'll become a Commodore sometime in August and, once it is completed, you'll be stationed as fleet commander on the flag-ship of our NX fleet, which not quite incidentally will be aforementioned _Atlantis._ "

"You're just making my day, Admiral," Archer answered, shaken with emotion. "So you better tell me where the hook is with that, or I'll plant a wet one on you, soon."

"No, thanks, I don't swing that way," Gardner laughed. "There is no hook. The top-brass gave the green-light to allowing you and Erika act on any feelings that the top-brass didn't kill off when they forced you to break-up."

"I'm seriously just about to cry. How did this change come about?"

"I'll show you. It was one of Maxwell's finest moments," Gardner said and turned on the display behind him.

"The whole top-brass was assembled," he explained, while entering the appropriate time index. "The complete who-is-who of Starfleet and Vulcan's Ambassador Soval, who addressed the assembly. Most of us were getting tired of the debate as it was going into its 4th hour, but Black was being stubborn, well until Maxwell's had it. But first Soval..."

=/\=

"While one might argue that not all humans possess the mental discipline to make a strict distinction between a professional relationship, defined by their position in the chain of command, and a personal intimate relationship, I have found myself surprised on more than one occasion, that officers, who performed their duties exemplary, were also pursuing a clandestine romantic relationship."

"Is there a specific reason, that you did not report such cases to Starfleet, Ambassador?" Admiral Black, the fiercest, and basically last, supporter of the strict prohibition of fraternization asked. Unfortunately, without his vote, there was no relaxing them as a unanimous decision was required.

"There is, Admiral. First of all, as you know, Vulcan law forbids meddling with private affairs of a mated pair. In fact, such violation is one of the few crimes still punishable by death on Vulcan. I have no doubt that you understand that my ethics would not allow me to willingly separate mates of any species. A report to Starfleet would have ended with exactly that result."

"Human couples do not fall under Vulcan law," Black replied, much to the annoyance to Admiral Forrest.

"Oh for Pete's sake, Roger, drop it already," Forrest interrupted, his annoyance showing clearly.

 _It would be prudent to prepare for a substantial emotional outburst_ , Soval thought, looking at his human friend of many years. _Maxwell tends to become most vocal when his intellect is challenged by... cretins, even though his arguments are rarely fit for a diplomatic debate._

"You just can't allow that on a starship," Black insisted for the umpteenth time. "What's next – kissing on the bridge, lovers quarrels in the middle of a fire fight?"

"What the hell have you been smoking this morning?" Forrest asked, gesticulating in unhidden annoyance. "If it's legal, maybe you can pass it round. Maybe we all get your point then. Archer has just come back from a mission that lasted 3 years, read my lips, Roger, that's 3 fucking years. I don't know the exact count, but at least 20 of the crewmen who just saved our sorry asses from a second Xindi attack had insult added to injury by being left by their spouses, who couldn't stand waiting for years for their loved one's only to being told that their sweetheart had been killed in action."

Black looked at him in shock, while Soval raised an eyebrow. _I believe this to be a demonstration of Maxwell's concept of 'the rhetoric bazooka',_ the Ambassador mused in his mind, while Forrest's rant continued.

"You've given us the same idiot argument for four hours now, nothing more. Four years ago, I had to order a newly promoted captain to break-up with the love of his life, because of this no-frat shit. They had never behaved anything but perfectly professional, despite being involved in the hottest love-affair I've ever seen. But, because of these rules, who were drawn up by guys who probably didn't get laid too often, I was forced to break them up. I was pissed out of my skull for days, because I felt like utter shit for having to do this to them. Have you ever seen a Starfleet captain cry, because you've just ordered him to send the love of his life into the fucking desert? I have, and we all know that we're talking about the very same captain, who's just came back as fucking hero!"

"Evidently, he survived your oh-so-cruel order, Admiral," Black spat back in anger. _A crucial mistake,_ Soval thought. _I believe it to be time for the metaphors of a more mature variety._

"Goddammit, how the hell do you find home without help, Roger? We've been sitting here, listening to your pathetic dribble for hours now and all the while, that what you want to keep banned is happening all over the show and things look mighty professional to me in Starfleet. While you go home every night to mount your ol' lady, you wanna condemn them guys up there to years of visits to Ms. Fist, Finger Avenue No. 5? You have a simple choice – make the missions shorter or stop that no-frat crap. I'm done here."

=/\=

"Never heard him swear like that before," Archer muttered in a mix of admiration and sad realization at just how much his old friend had suffered from having to give the fateful order that forced him and Erika to break up.

"Yeah, I thought Black would have his ass on a platter, but Soval butted in and explained – perfectly logically of course – that forcing people to stay away from each other for years was impossible and illogical, all the same," Gardner explained and stopped the replay.

"So Starfleet will not object if Erika and I get back together?"

"Let me put it that way. Whenever you're ready to make the move, Erika will be transferred to a room that has a double bed."

"Schedule those meetings, Admiral. Permission to leave?"

"Get out, Jon."

"Thanks Admiral, for everything."

=/\=

"Morning, Admiral. Commander Charles Tucker III, reporting as ordered."

"At, ease. Take a seat."

"Whatever you told the cap'n it must be good? Never seen him grin like that. Did Starfleet give the OK for him 'n Erika?"

Gardner just nodded with a smile.

"Well finally," Trip sighed.

"I've called you here to offer you the command of _Enterprise._ "

"Don't go there, Admiral, I decline."

"May I ask for the reason?"

"Well let's start with the little fact that I don't have any significant command experience. I was acting First Officer for a few days when Jon was with the Nazis, but that's about it. I was ranking officer exactly 3 times. Two times the Vulcans shot at me and one time they told me the water polo results. That's all mighty funny, but doesn't make me captain material and, besides, it would keep me away from my engines and Starfleet can't be that cruel."

"What's your proposal?"

"Well we both know that Commander T'Pol's the best candidate for the job."

"I was asking for a more objective advise."

"Admiral, with all due respect, I object the implication. My proposal is purely based on facts and has nothing to do with my personal relationship with Commander T'Pol."

"Calm down, Commander, that's exactly what I wanted to hear. But the problem is that Commander T'Pol has barely a few months of experience as a Starfleet officer."

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"Granted."

"What you're trying to sell me is bullshit. T'Pol had more experience in space travel when we shipped out than most of us have now. She's the only officer in Starfleet who can even remotely fill the shoes of Jon Archer. The real reason is that some people are mighty uncomfortable with the thought of an alien captain."

"It's a tough sell."

"Why? We're building a Coalition of Planets here. It's bound to happen that you see different species on the bridge. And Starfleet command better get used to it, because in a couple weeks Shran will be knocking on your door with his application papers in the hand. And if Starfleet sends him away because he's an alien, you'll have one mighty pissed off crew at hand, not even mentioning that they'd be blithering idiots for sending away a guy that commanded starships, when we were still cobbling together the NX prototypes. We all like the blue guy. Without him, the Xindi would've shredded Earth to dust."

"Shran wants to sign up with us?"

"Yep, the Imperial Guard kicked him out because he lost his ship. Imagine that."

"I think you have a point Commander, it'll be a tough sell, but I have revisited a very spirited performance of Admiral Forrest today and I wouldn't want to look pale in comparison," Gardner chuckled, though Trip didn't know what he was talking about. "What would you suggest, except making Commander T'Pol the captain?"

"Well, I can make suggestions, but I would ask you to check them with her, should you get it through. She's not adverse to taking advise from me, but whoever becomes the skipper, should have the last word. "

"That goes without saying."

"Ok, Malcolm Reed should get an additional pip and be made XO. That way we would avoid any suspicion of personal relationships interfering with chain of command. Hoshi Sato and Travis Mayweather are overdue for a promotion as well. They've been Ensigns for almost 4 years now. And Ensign Rao should have been a Lieutenant for a long time already. According to T'Pol, she's one fine scientist and it takes something to impress a Vulcan. She could easily take over the science department."

"That sounds good. Actually some of those were meant to be promoted after the Xindi mission, but before we could go ahead, the Augment crisis came up."

"I have a few engineering proposals, too."

"Go ahead."

"Now that we saved the Vulcans their Ambassador, we should test the waters about getting our hands on some of that shielding technology. If that doesn't work, we could always nag the hell out 'o them."

Gardner laughed.

"Commander T'Pol and I have also drawn up some ideas to improve the efficiency factor of the injector assemblies. That could get us to 5.7, maybe 5.8 with a lick o' tailwind, but we'd need time to test it. Oh and yeah, I'd like to request that all further modifications that are done by Jupiter station be given to me for approval beforehand. Their last modification put me into a coma for almost 2 days."

"Faulty installation?"

"No, jury rigging of epic proportions. They slapped in a bypass to a power line in the EPS grid without installing stronger conduits. If one of my engineers had done that he'd be floating in space now."

Gardner poked away at a PADD.

"Your request is granted," he said. "Not a single screw will be loosened without your written approval. But, Commander, that does not mean you can lurk about the ship all the time. You're expected to take shore leave as well, understood?"

"Don't worry, Admiral. Planning to introduce a Vulcan to a bunch of southerners, who don't yet know what's coming," Trip laughed. "Permission to leave?"

"Granted. Oh and Commander...," Gardner called out, before Trip was out of the door.

"Yes, Admiral?"

"Whenever something's wrong, feel free to contact me. It's way too rare that someone dares to call bullshit, when I'm talking out of my ass."

"Will do, Admiral."


	7. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip has a somewhat shocking therapy session with Soval before Enterprise's First Couple arrives at the home of some southern parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ensign (later Lieutenant Rao) is the brainchild of Alelou and first appeared in her Season 1 Missing Scenes, which you can find on Triaxian Silk or ff.net. In her story Rao is a man, while she's a woman in my story. I simply misread Alelou's story before pilfering her character - sorry.   
> To save me from ultimate embarrassment, a second author had the same misconception, so I can always do, what my little niece does - if you're caught, point at someone else and shout 'he did it too' ;)

_"Sov...Soval?"_

_"It is me,_ t'hy'la _."_

_"After all those years..."_

_"I regret that we were missing from each others lives."_

_"You did... what you had to do,_ t'hy'la _."_

_"As I do now."_

_"To see you... one last time, is...is..."_

_*searing pain*_

_*almighty grief*_

Trip awoke with a scream, almost unable to breathe. His tossing and turning had woken T'Pol. As his eyes opened, she had instinctively embraced him and pressed him to her body – a bit too firmly. His face had landed between two prominent upper body features, but he was too shaken to notice this rather delicate predicament until his scared mind became clear again.

"Aff much af I appreciate the fituation..." he sighed in a muffled voice once he had regained his calm. T'Pol released him from her firm grip.

"We should start practicing _Suus-Mahna_ with less clothing. That's the first time, I've enjoyed a choking move," he joked lamely to gloss over his shaking.

"This is the third consecutive night in which you have experienced disturbing images while you have slept."

"You saw them, too?"

"No, but I sensed your most disturbing emotions – pain, grief; overwhelming sadness."

"Yeah, and they're not mine. I need to go to the Embassy, I gotta talk to Soval."

"At this time? It's 0430."

"If he's anything like most Vulcans, he's been already up and about for half an hour."

"At this time in the morning, he is usually in the garden,” T'Pol relented. “He enjoys long walks in silence to calm his mind."

"OK, I'll be off," Trip muttered, dashing into the bathroom for his morning hygiene before leaving.

T'Pol silently enjoyed the naked form of her mate.

=/\=

"May I inquire about your name and the purpose of your visit?"

 _"_ I am Charles Tucker III of the clan _Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n,_ I need to speak to Soval. _"_

Seeing the barely hidden surprise on the young Vulcan aide's features, he added: "Yeah, I know, took me two days to learn to pronounce that name. Is he in the garden?"

The young aide nodded silently and watched the human walk into the building.

=/\=

"You have been at her deathbed, haven't you?"

Soval was shocked out of his silent contemplation. He had not even noticed the human's approach.

"Charles?"

"Yeah. Ever since our mind-meld, I've been having some mighty disturbing dreams and I'm pretty sure they're from your memories."

"I regret the intrusion. It appears my shielding failed at some point."

"Don't fret over it. That's not why I'm here. If those dreams are anything to go by, you are fighting some horrible emotions. It might not be the Vulcan way, but I'm obviously no Vulcan and I can offer you a human way of help. I'm family, after all."

"I believe you refer to talking about what caused the emotion. I do not see any logic in that."

"That surprises me, because another Vulcan saw exactly that logic, over a year ago, in the Expanse."

"Meaning?" Soval inquired as Trip fell in step.

"When my younger sister Elizabeth died, I went into denial. I refused to see her as anything but just another of 7 million victims. That went on until a Vulcan female came along and made me talk. She made me understand that remembering her was a much more suitable way to honor her rather than keeping silent about her very existence. Don't you think it would be a better way to honor your _t'hy'la_ if you told me about her?"

"I see the logic. However I do not trust my control when this particular memory is recalled."

"What are you afraid of, that I would think less of you? As soon as I told them our clan name, your aides behaved as if I was god himself. I don't know if that's because a human manged to pronounce it without choking to death in the process or if the clan's just that important on Vulcan or what, but, when I told them not to disturb us until we're back, they immediately acquiesced. That means, should the horror of you showing an emotional response happen, I'm going to be the only one around to see it. As a human I'm kinda used to it, y'know."

"Our clan is indeed very powerful on Vulcan. You are correct, however, that silencing the memory of Rosalie would not be a way to honor her existence."

"Doesn't sound like a Vulcan name to me."

"No. Rosalie Swindon was a human female who worked at the Vulcan Embassy when I became Ambassador to Earth. We often worked closely together and I soon realized that she was my eternal soul-mate."

 _I'll be damned!_ Trip thought. "So you bonded?"

"No, we could not bond," Soval answered and Trip noticed how think with emotion Soval's voice was. "My telepathic abilities are minor compared to T'Pol's. My mind was not strong enough to reach Rosalie. Not all humans are readily adaptable to telepathy and I did not know about bonds between humans and Vulcans what I know know. Your mind is most agile, which is why you were able to adapt to T'Pol so easily."

"Sorry to hear that."

"It was of no consequence. When the High Command learned of our relationship, they threatened to punish us both unless I underwent the _fullara_ at the monastery at P'Jem."

"She was an Earth citizen. The VHC had no jurisdiction over her."

"Do you really believe that would have stopped V'Las, Charles? He resorted to assassination if it served his agenda. Rosalie was in grave danger, so I underwent the ritual."

"What exactly is this f _ullara_ anyway?"

"It's a ritual that suppresses certain memories permanently."

"Brainwashing?"

"A crude, but fitting metaphor. It did not work however – not for long, at least, as the memories returned after mere days. They were simply too strong."

"I can see that. Is that why she died? Did the High Command kill her?"

"No. I returned to my post and pretended to have no memory of her. Such action on my part was impossible for her to bear and Rosalie left her own posting not long after my return; we did not see each other for over 45 years, until she fell gravely ill a year ago. When I learned of it, I went to see her."

"That's what I keep seeing in my dreams. You were in love with her and you didn't see her for 45 years? How did you stand the pain? When I went to _Columbia_ , I was separated from T'Pol for 2 weeks and it drove me crazy. I was insufferable and so cranky that 2 people requested transfers after just one day with me. I attempted what you did and it didn't even work for two weeks. That's why you changed isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"For the first 3 years of our mission, you were cranky, insufferable, and sometimes even resentful. About nine months ago, when we returned from the Expanse, you were changed. Jon told me you even thanked him and shook his hand for it and you championed T'Pol when she applied for her commission in Starfleet. When the Embassy on Vulcan was bombed, you openly sided with us and you were ready to burn all bridges with the High Command."

"Most perceptive. I hid behind a somewhat disagreeable persona to protect Rosalie. As long as the High Command believed that I had no memory of her...," Soval started shaking.

"What's that?" Trip asked, pointing to a small building.

"Private meditation chamber," Soval answered in a strangled voice.

"Come on," Trip said and practically dragged Soval into the building, closing and locking the door. "So as long as they thought you had forgotten her..."

"They did not try to punish her, as long as I kept the facade of my critical stance towards humanity. I worked conspiratorially with Maxwell Forrest to further humanity's progress within the limits that were defined by my deception of the High Command. He was the only other to know what I have told you today. One day, he came to my office and informed me that she was gravely ill and her life was nearing its end."

Trip saw tears running down Soval's face. He had never seen any significant show of emotion on Soval's face before, seeing the man in tears was extremely unsettling. Too late he realized that he was going up a raging river of emotions without a paddle.

"I decided to seek her out, to see her one last time. She was content when she noticed my presence. We were one at last. When she was gone..."

The dam broke and Soval lost the fight with his grief. An earsplitting scream of agony filled the chamber.

=/\=

T'Pol had her arms slung around her trembling mate.

"You should have seen it," Trip managed between sobs. "He tore the place to pieces with his bare hands."

"A Vulcan who's overcome by his emotions is a very disturbing sight."

"45 years! If I EVER get my hands on that V'Las bastard, I'm gonna disembowel the fuckin' shithead with my bare hands, just for what he's done to them."

His ripe language worried her. It appeared that her mate had taken on a lot of pain on behalf of a clansman. She wondered if it had been such a good idea.

"How is Soval?"

"He's better now that the emotions have been purged. But, damn, that's nothing I wanna see ever again."

"You took a great risk to help a family member in distress."

"It was worth it. Nobody deserves to live in so much pain. He lost the love of his life and his best friend, all in one year."

"You've done well."

"Hope so. After he was done wrecking the meditation chamber, we returned to the Embassy building and meditated. He even showed me some new techniques. He's much better now. Didn't do much for me though. At least I could get out of the Embassy without losing it."

"I'm gratified to hear that."

"Darlin', I was wondering, when Soval became Ambassador, he must have been like a hundred or so. If he found his soul-mate here, what's happened in the first 100 years?"

"He was betrothed in childhood and later bonded as it is tradition, but his mate died in a battle at Paan Mokar. After her death, he asked for a posting on Earth."

"And we now know how that went. But what's with that... you know... seven year itch."

"Soval is not a strong telepath, but he has a most powerful emotional control. He is one of very few Vulcans who have survived the throes of _pon-farr_ in intense meditation and one of a handful to have done so more than once."

"If he's able to cheat death by meditating, I shouldn't have been able to break his control simply by letting him talk to me."

"He allowed you to. You provided him a logical reason by your offering a human method of help as a clansman. He would have been able to bear the pain without that help, but it would also have poisoned his katra as time went on. You have done him an invaluable service."

T'Pol gently rubbed the back of her mate, who desperately clung to her. His mind was most likely still horrified at the thought of living half a century without his soul-mate and her own mind got scared by the idea too and due to the shorter human lifespan for her it was an almost inevitable prospect.

=/\=

Hoshi and Malcolm watched their friends as they entered the mess hall. After collecting their food, they found their table and joined them in silence.

"You two don't look too well," Malcom half-asked, half-stated.

"Yeah, had a rough day, Mal."

"Something you want to talk about?"

"Not now, thanks. What's new with you?"

"We're going to visit Hoshi's parents."

"Getting serious, aren't we?" Trip smiled weakly.

"My parents want to see the handsome gentleman who turned my life upside down in just a few days," Hoshi purred and got a loving glance from Malcolm.

"What are you two up to?" she asked.

"Well, I hope Starfleet nails a fourth pip to T'Pol's collar soon. Then we're going to visit my folks."

"Prepare for more colorful phrases, T'Pol," Hoshi giggled.

"It would be logical to assume that Trip inherited this aspect of his character from his ancestors."

"You have no idea," Hoshi answered, still giggling. "The universal translator has 4 options for English: Standard, American, Southern Drawl and Charles Tucker, Jr."

"Maybe we should bring the universal translator when we visit your parents," T'Pol offered with an amused eyebrow-lift.

"Don' ya worry sweetheart, ya goin' ta be jus' fine," Trip answered in his best imitation of his dad's hideous drawl and laughter erupted around the table.

=/\=

"T'Pol of Vulcan, by order SFC-851432 of Starfleet Command, effective immediately, I promote you to Captain and place you in command of the Starfleet vessel NX-01 _Enterprise,"_ Gardner read from a pad.

Knowing that Vulcans were very wary of close proximity, he had amended the proceedings by asking Commander Charles Tucker to take on the task of pinning the additional pips to her collar as well as those of the other promoted officers.

"Thank you, Admiral."

"Hoshi Sato, by order SFC-851433 of Starfleet Command, effective immediately, I promote you to Lieutenant."

Trip pinned her new insignia to her uniform and both shared a short hug.

"Malcolm Reed, by order SFC-851434 of Starfleet Command, effective immediately, I promote you to Commander and assign to you the duty of First Officer in addition to your duties as tactical officer aboard the Starfleet vessel NX-01 _Enterprise._ "

"Welcome to the club, Mal."

"Travis Mayweather, by order SFC-851435 of Starfleet Command, effective immediately, I promote you to Lieutenant."

"Thank you Admiral."

"Mayumi Rao, by order SFC-851436 of Starfleet Command, effective immediately, I promote you to Lieutenant and assign to you the duty of Science Officer on the Starfleet vessel NX-01 _Enterprise._ "

"Now that I got you all here," Gardner continued after Trip had completed decorating Lt. Rao, "and before you scatter about all over the planet, I want to prepare you for your next mission. You'll go back to the Xindi."

"Problems, Sir?" Trip asked.

"None. The Xindi-Primates agreed to help us with tactical knowledge and the Xindi-Arboreals offered to share some of their sensor technology. The Reptilians are still in the doghouse, but the Insectoids are prepared to return to the Council. The Aquatics asked for the humans to help mediating the talks between the subspecies, so that the Insectoids can be rehabilitated."

"A welcome development," T'Pol commented.

"I better brush up on my Insectoid then," Hoshi quipped.

"That'll be all," Gardner closed. "Captain T'Pol and Commander Tucker, please stay, the others are dismissed."

"Admiral?" they asked in unison, when the others had left.

"The mission's time frame is eight months. It is not part of your official mission profile, but if there's any time left before you have to return, you have permission to investigate what happened to the other _Enterprise_. I understand that you have a very personal connection to that crew."

"Thank you, Admiral," T'Pol answered. Trip wasn't quite able to answer as a mix of warring emotions of sadness and hope ravaged his mind.

"Commander," Gardner tried after a while of observing Trip's fight with emotions. Trip quickly straightened himself.

"Admiral?"

"Did you run into any jury-rigging lately?" Gardner asked jovially.

"No, Sir, not lately. In fact, some of the proposals that were sent to me make entirely too much sense to be coming from Jupiter Station."

Gardner bellowed out a hearty laugh. "Oh, for Christ's sake, if only more officers would be half as straight-forward as you. We got help from the Vulcans. Minister T'Pau sent an engineering team, headed by some Professor Solan. She talked about 'helping clansmen'."

"T'Pau?" Trip asked in T'Pol's direction.

"Soval's younger sister T'Lara was T'Pau's mother," she answered cryptically.

"Soval's parents obviously didn't have a TV set," Trip quipped. "Anyways, Admiral, I've signed off on most of the stuff. We should be able to hang in there in a fight a lot longer. Malcolm's gonna drool over the new Mark-III torpedoes."

"That sounds good. Now go on your shore leave; you've earned it."

"We'll leave day after tomorrow."

"Don't forget to transmit your contact data. Dismissed."

"Aye, Sir."

=/\=

"When Soval told me, that our clan is influential, I didn't expect it to be **that influential** ," Trip marveled as they walked along the corridors of Starfleet command.

"Our clansmen occupy many influential positions. T'Pau, Kuvak and Soval have the most important posts."

"Kuvak?"

"Soval's youngest brother V'Cren's son," T'Pol delivered dryly, expecting her mate to laugh – he didn't disappoint.

"Did Soval's parents try to take over the planet by sheer numbers?" he managed between laughs.

"They were ... uncharacteristically fertile," T'Pol analyzed with a hint of amusement. "Seven offspring is a rare occurrence."

"Wait-a-minute. Kov's father was named Kuvak and he was in the High Command."

"Yes, Kov is of our clan, too."

"I'm starting to believe that you're related to every Vulcan I've ever run into. It's worse than in the south," Trip remarked with a chuckle.

=/\=

"You OK?" Trip asked, as he piloted Shuttlepod 2 away from _Enterprise._

"I am experiencing a slight apprehension as I am unsure how your family will react. If you wrote them about me as much as you say, they must also know about the many times that I have caused you discomfort."

"They'll be fine, don't worry," Trip soothed her with an encouraging smile. "I'm amazed that Gardner allowed us to hijack the Shuttlepod for a full week for private purposes."

"Both shuttles are being replaced by newer Series-5 models. We are expected to leave this one at Starfleet training grounds when we no longer need it."

"Travis will go nuts. He's been babbling on for weeks about how good the Series-5 is."

A long silence followed. When they passed Mars on their way from Jupiter station to Earth, T'Pol broke the silence.

"What do I need to know about your family? You rarely speak of them."

"Well. My mother's name is Cathryn and my father's – quite unsurprisingly – is Charles. Word of warning, don't be shocked if my dad hugs you. I told him a hundred times that Vulcans don't like that, but knowing his enthusiasm at the idea I've finally found my better half, he'll forget about that completely."

"Were you so unsuccessful in this endeavor to spark such enthusiasm?"

"Well, darlin'. I'm almost 34 and only now have found my better half. That's awfully young for a Vulcan, but quite unusual for a human. Not really old, but usually we have the first kids in our early or mid twenties. Many on _Enterprise_ have no family. With the no-frat rules, until recently, serving on a starship was not without sacrifice. In Engineering alone, 8 people were dumped by their spouses."

"It appears I owe the female population of Earth a debt of gratitude for leaving you available for... me."

"That's your giggle-brow, innit?" Trip laughed about her improving attempts at teasing him.

"Giggle-brow?"

"When you crack a joke or when you are amused, you raise that eye-brow the way you do now."

"Most perceptive," she answered and retained that particular eye-brow configuration.

"What else do I need to know about your family?"

"Not much, you can find out yourself. Hoshi warned you about my dad already. He's really got one bad accent and he's also a bit robust in his choice of words. What are we gonna tell them, you know, about things like Lorian and all?"

"They are your family, they have a right to know everything."

"Everything?"

"Maybe not all the details about... intimate encounters."

"That's what I thought," Trip chuckled. "At one time, when I'm alone, dad will come along and ask 'Hey boy, how's 'at hot gal 'o yours in bed?'"

"Quite indiscreet. What will you answer?"

"I'm gonna say you're comfortable."

=/\=

"Trip, honey!" Cathryn practically ran him over and wrapped him in a fierce hug, followed by his father; T'Pol became slightly worried that her mate might sustain damage.

"Mom, dad, this is T'Pol of the clan _Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n,"_ Trip introduced her, struggling to fight the laugh, when he saw his dad's jaw hit the deck, seeing his son effortlessly pronounce what sounded like a monster of a tongue breaker.

"Must be one helluva name tag," Charles jr muttered.

"It's there," T'Pol explained and pointed at an elaborate curved Vulcan symbol on her robe.

"Well, welcome to our home, sweetheart," the elder male recovered and – as expected – hugged her.

"Charles," Cathryn warned him sternly. "What did Trip say about hugging?"

"Oh," he muttered as he let go of T'Pol with an embarrassed look. "I'm awfully sorry, got carried away."

"Do not concern yourself, I'm fairly accustomed to the gesture," T'Pol answered with an amused glance at Trip.

"Come in kids," Cathryn continued and indicated them to follow.

=/\=

"You guys all settled in?" Charles asked, as Trip came down the stairs alone.

"Yeah, dad. She's meditating, was a bit nervous about how you would take to her."

"Don' worry about that boy, she looks like one mighty fine lady."

"That she is, dad."

"So, how ya been all them months son? You didn't talk much in ya transmissions. Mother got awfully worried when ya suddenly stopped mentioning T'Pol. She always though you two'd end up together, considerin' ya wrote about not much else for almost 3 years."

"That's one mighty tricky story. We were close to getting together 9 months ago. She took me to Vulcan to meet her mom. Then suddenly her childhood betrothed turned up and blackmailed her into marrying him..." Trip choked, but fought back the tears. "I was there dad. I had to see her marry a guy she barely knew and definitely had no feelings for."

"Dammit boy, why didn' ya fight?"

"I could have, but then they would have hauled her mother away. They had trumped up some bogus charges against her and threatened to prosecute her if T'Pol wouldn't marry that jerk. And to top it off, if you object to a Vulcan marriage – the fighting is literal – to the death. I wouldn't have stood a cat's chance in hell in that atmosphere."

"That's sick, goddammit. Sounds like 1650 Earth if ya ask me."

"Turned out that this guy was as much a victim as T'Pol. Her clan is mighty powerful and that guy's father was hell-bent on tying his family to her clan. When the Embassy was bombed, they tried to blame a group of pacifists. T'Pol's mom was one of them. She got killed when their sanctuary was blanket-bombed."

"Jesus!"

"Yeah. Koss, the guy who T'Pol had married, finally saw what his dad had gotten him into and helped Jon sneak into the High Command. He also released her from that scam of a marriage, once the High Command was disbanded."

"Well, good on him. And that's when you got together, finally?"

"Not quite. That's when things actually got ugly. T'Pol was completely confused. Imagine you see your mother die and a few days later someone finds an artifact that proves your whole planet's laws and beliefs have been crooked. She couldn't make any sense of it. I offered to help her, but she was so grief-ridden and confused, she actually shut me out completely."

Charles was lost for words.

"Some weeks on, I couldn't take it anymore. That's when transferred to _Columbia._ But things only got worse. We were hurting from the separation. Due to some emergency on _Enterprise,_ I had to go back and she was changed. Looks like that was when she got the clue."

"Looks like it, else she wouldn't be her, would she?"

"Three weeks ago, she came to my cabin at oh-goddammit o'clock. I just came out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Thinking nothing of it, I just dropped it an looked for my pants. You should have seen it dad," Trip explained with a laugh. "She was so flustered, she started to clean-up my cabin, picking up my uniform and such. Afterward she spilled her heart out and since then we're together. And it's for keeps."

"You was always some mean bastard, boy, flustering a lady like that...," Charles added as both shared a refreshing laugh. "Let's go out on the porch for a beer. Wouldn't wanna disturb her meditation by us laughing like idiots."

"Sure dad."

=/\=

T'Pol picked up the faint sound of rapturous laughter as she entered the kitchen.

"It appears that Trip regales his father with numerous tales of his adventures," she remarked with a hint of amusement.

"Yes, they both needed it. I haven't heard Charley laugh very often, since Lizzy died," Cathryn sighed. "Can I offer you a drink? Coffee?"

"Coffee doesn't quite agree with me, but if you had tea?"

"Chamomile, right?"

"Trip seems to have informed you about me most comprehensible."

"He was writing about nothing else, honey. His very first transmission was all about you, although not very flattering. Thankfully that has changed over the years."

"We both were harboring prejudice and resentment. Our initial relationship was fairly... confrontational, but we both learned to appreciate each others presence and developed a mutual affection."

Cathryn laughed softly. "I think Trip was head over heals in love with yo, before you even went after those Xindi."

"Unfortunately, it took me a great deal longer to notice that. The concept of love is fairly alien to Vulcans."

"Fairly, but not completely. I've never seen Trip that happy, not when a woman was involved."

"He mentioned his relatively modest success with the females of the species."

Cathryn laughed. "Honey, for a Vulcan you have one sharp sense of humor."

"So I've been told," T'Pol returned with an amused eyebrow-lift, while sipping her tea.

"Trip and women, that was always a tricky topic. I hope you'll marry one day to see just how loving a husband he will be. But he's not easy. He brought home a lot of girls when he started dating, but none never lasted long. Trip needs a lot of attention."

"One of my early misconceptions about humans – males especially – was that they were purely driven by carnal desires. But I learned that something as simple as holding his hand or embracing him can elicit a far bigger contentment than an... intimate encounter."

"God, am I happy that all those shallow girls didn't get it. You seem to be so good for him."

"That goes both ways, Cathryn."

"Have you two made plans for your time here?"

"We cannot engage in any activities that will keep us away from here for too long. Albeit on shore leave, we both need to stay in touch with Starfleet. I've been placed in command of _Enterprise_ and Trip wishes to supervise the repairs and modifications at Jupiter station. We have not yet discussed any plans beyond tomorrow."

"You are the captain of _Enterprise_? Did something happen to Jon?"

"In a way: he left _Enterprise_ to tend to his desired mate, Captain Hernandez. She was severely injured during a hostile encounter with the Klingons."

"Oh my god."

"She will need a great deal of time to recover, but she has now the support of Jonathan. Trip informed me that Starfleet finally stopped opposing their relationship."

"That's so nice to hear. It was a shame to break them up. Charley will be glad that they're back together."

"As is Trip. He was most relieved when Admiral Gardner informed him about it."

"So what is the plan for tomorrow?"

"Trip wants to visit the beach with me."

Cathryn's eyes narrowed, just the way Trip's did when he had an idea or was thinking about something.

"He didn't tell you to bring a swimsuit, did he?"

"I do not possess a swimsuit."

"That's what I thought," Cathryn laughed and refilled their cups.

 


	8. Barefoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Pol decides to use a novel approach to explain her past and the First Couple spends some quality time on the beach...

"Seriously, dad, you have no idea," Trip laughed. "Not that she was ugly, not by a long shot. But damn, that attitude o' hers should have come with a warning label. We're down this swamp and I sent her collecting firewood."

"Ya sent miss high-and-mighty collecting wood?"

"Yeah, and what does she come back with? A hand full o' twigs. Was pretty peeved, too. Anyways, I was pissed off like all get out."

"And knowing ya, ya told her about it."

"Sure thing. She starts berating me about being a mere commoner and stuff and we got into one helluva argument. Then she wanted to slap me and I caught her arm. We both rolled down that hill and landed in the water."

"Who woulda thunk it, wrestling princess..." Charles laughed.

"She went on yapping at me and I cussed her off and suddenly she kissed the daylights outta me."

"Where the hell did that come from?"

"No idea, she just did. There wasn't any hay around, but we took a roll in it anyways."

"Well, sure makes up for the muggin' ya got on Risa," Charles quipped between laughs.

"Then I notice that beeping noise. Turned out to be homing beacon and one of them guys who had kidnapped her in the first place had just locked on to it. We stuffed my uniform with all sorts of junk and placed it as a decoy. Then this goon showed up and I jumped him. Gave him a good punching, but he just stood there. Could as well have scratched my ass, would've had the same effect."

"How'd ya beat him then?"

"I didn't. He dragged me down to that lake and tried to drown me. That's when Kaitaama grabbed a big ol' branch and whacked him over the head. Guy was out cold immediately."

"Good thing she din't pull that trick on you," Charles chuckled.

"Yeah. He'd lost his weapon, so there's me in my underwear, she in the skimpiest dress that would just about be legal in half of the galaxy, poking around in the water, when I hear Jon from behind saying, 'Trip, this a bad time?'" Trip mocked in his best Archer imitation. "Malcolm stood there with him, giving me a shit eating grin and T'Pol shot Kaitaama a death stare."

"So what happened to her?"

"Don't know. We delivered her back to her people and, if everything went OK, she should be Queen by now."

"I could listen ta yer stories all day," Charles laughed. "But sumthing's tell me ya did only tell me the funny stuff. Don't ya think we deserve ta know 'bout them humdingers too?"

"Another day, dad. Today I just wanted to hear you laugh and I know hearing it made mom's day, too."

"You're one helluva son, boy. Guess I'll hit the sack; ya mom's probably waitin' already."

"Indeed, she is," T'Pol added, coming out on the porch with a hefty manifestation of the 'Brow Of Enormous Giggle'.

"Night ya two," Charles said with a mischievous grin and left the pair alone on the porch.

"Hi, darlin'. Talked to mom?"

"I did. She showed me something called a 'baby book' - most fascinating."

"Oh dear," Trip groaned.

Suddenly T'Pol grabbed him and kissed him, hard and passionate.

"Where did that come from?" he asked out of breath.

"You have given your mother an invaluable gift. Obviously the sound of your father's laughter has been one she has been missing for a long time."

"I know. He suffered badly when Lizzy died."

"You did well," she said and unconcealed admiration sparkled in her eyes. "Your mother seemed not to be surprised that you 'forgot' to remind me to bring or buy a swimsuit."

Trip laughed softly. "T'Pol, this has nothing to do with forgetting something. This is **our** beach. Did you really think I'm gonna wear a swimsuit on my own beach?"

"But your parents..."

"The moment we leave the house, the beach will be off-limits for everybody short of Jesus Christ. Mom would kill dad if he just walks a step too near the beach while we are there."

"You want to observe me in a disrobed condition," she said in mock-accusation.

"Guilty as charged. You Vulcans aren't the only ones who appreciate beauty. And besides, you want to 'observe' me too."

"Guilty as charged," T'Pol returned in obvious amusement.

=/\=

"Vulcan bodies have higher body mass proportional to our sizes," T'Pol complained. "I will sink to the ground."

"Bullcrap, darlin'. You may have higher mass, but you have two times the lung capacity, at least. That should give you enough buoyancy to float just fine. Try it – I'm going to catch you if you sink."

"That's just another excuse to get your hands on my... delicious parts."

"Would I need an excuse for that, darlin'?"

"No," she conceded, seeing her argument deflate as quickly as she had brought it up.

"You're afraid, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Ok," Trip explained. "Bend forward... yes... now let yourself fall forward... keep the head up."

T'Pol floated on top of the water, Trips arms below her stomach kept her up. With the perfect efficiency of a Vulcan, she executed the arm and leg movements that Trip instructed her to perform. Engrossed in the unfamiliar activity, she never noticed, how Trip retracted his arms.

"See, it works," he said, swimming alongside. Momentarily startled, she stopped her movement and her head dipped below the water. In a quick catching movement, Trip had her above the water line again. "Try again."

She swam effortlessly after just about 20 minutes of training. There was something to be said for the superior Vulcan sense of coordination and balance.

"The water is fairly cold," she remarked with a slight shiver. While it was fairly warm by human standards, it was quite chilly for a Vulcan, so the time for splashing around was limited.

"Let's get back to the beach; I've got an idea how to warm ya up again."

"I am interested to find out what it may be."

As they walked towards the beach, each taking pleasure in admiring their respective mate's naked form, Trip noticed an amused eyebrow.

"What's so funny, darlin'?"

"Since our stay here would technically constitute an away mission, I cannot fail to notice that you are still remarkably undamaged, except for the cut on the sole of your foot. It appears my accompanying you makes excursions from the ship noticeably safer."

"Funny, darlin', very funny. First of all, I got the cut because I stepped on a shell, but what fun would the beach be if you don't go barefoot – and, second, don't get used to babysitting me on away missions. Malcolm is a stickler for rules, so how often do you think you'll get away from the ship?"

"I shall find a way to deal with Malcolm."

"Let's get you dry then and warmed up," Trip said with a greedy grin, gently toweling her petite frame. Afterward he drew her into a passionate embrace, dragging her down onto the beach blanket.

=/\=

Charles Tucker Jr entered the kitchen, giggling.

"What's so funny, Charles? You haven't been peeking at 'em, have you?" Cathryn asked sternly.

"Do I look crazy, woman? I like to sleep indoors! But we shoulda told 'em that even when no one can see 'em down there, one sure as hell can hear 'em, especially when T'Pol makes such a helluva racket."

Cathryn laughed. "Oh dear – young love. Just think back to what our first weeks of marriage were like. No wonder Trip arrived almost exactly 9 months later."

"We were an active team, that's fer sure. I had muscles bein' sore like hell I din' even know I had 'fore. Where's the beer, honey? I got a hunch that 'em lovebirds will be back any minute."

"Dinner's ready anyways. Beer is in the stasis unit."

"Well, here they come. If they keep glowin' like that, we ain't gonna need no lamp on the porch tonight," Charley chuckled, but stopped himself, before the two came into earshot.

The meal went in relative silence, mainly because the elder Tuckers were very busy fighting their grins and Trip and T'Pol were fighting their blushes.

=/\=

As the sun started to set, the four sat on the porch. Trip and his father had made sure that a sufficient supply of beer was at hand and even T'Pol tried the strange beverage, seeing that Cathryn had also grabbed a bottle, hinting at a family ritual.

T'Pol made a bland face, after her first taste of beer. All human eyes were on her, waiting for the verdict.

"Obviously an acquired taste..."

"Yep, and every Tucker man acquires it immediately after birth," Charles drawled.

"Since I failed to do so, it might take me a while to fully admire the taste."

"Yep, exactly 5 bottles, darlin', then it's the greatest stuff in the universe," Trip explained with a laugh.

"I did not plan to inebriate myself," T'Pol admonished softly.

"T'was only a joke, darlin'."

"So kids, now ya both didn't talk much about the fight with the Xindi and how ya got together. I can imagine that it wasn't a walk in the park. Judgin' from Trip's transmissions it was quite an up-'n-down, until ya finally got the clue that ya love each other."

"Was quite the ride," Trip started. "But actually it was really hard on Jon, too. You know him, all those ideals, dreaming of being an explorer, and there he was commanding a damn warship, looking for a bunch of people of which be knew nothing but the name. He had to make some ugly decisions - torturing people, stranding others, and giving a helluva lot eulogies."

"Trip was in no better condition," T'Pol continued. "He went into denial concerning his sister's death. He tried to work himself to complete exhaustion, but could not sleep, because disturbing images came to him in his sleep. So finally, Doctor Phlox asked me to help him using Vulcan neuropressure."

"Neuropressure?"

"First I thought, it's like a glorified backrub, but I soon found out that it's probably the most intimate thing ya can do, without getting **completely** naked."

"That's surprising," Cathryn said. "Considering how Vulcans are so cautious with anything intimate, you must have gone quite out of your way for that."

"It was not that surprising," T'Pol explained. "Although none of us would have admitted it at that time, we were already quite attracted to each other at that point. For me, it was a welcome excuse to spend time with Trip without having to admit to any desire to do so. Unfortunately, it took me fairly long to see that denying one's attraction was foolish."

"Well, I wasn't any better, it took T'Pol quite some twisting to get me to admit that I hat the hots for her and that was months later," Trip added, amazed how open and straight-forward she talked about such intimate things in front of her future in-laws. But that was probably just an extension of T'Pol's logic concerning Mal and Hoshi: his parents were family, so not too much censoring was required.

"So, how did ya deal with Lizzie's death, boy?"

"At that time, not at all. I was still in denial. First came Sim," Trip trailed off.

"Sim was a clone of Trip. He had been gravely injured and the only thing that could save his life was a transplant from a compatible donor. So Phlox created a clone, who would grow to maturity in less than 2 weeks."

"So there's a second Trip out there?" Cathryn asked, horrified.

"No, Sim died during the surgery. It was expected that he would not survive the procedure. It was an instance of what Trip called 'ugly decisions'. Both Jonathan and Trip are still deeply disturbed by the memory."

"You shoulda seen it," Trip continued in a breaking voice. "I was standing there, looking at the casket and it was me in there – dead. And he had been created, just to die, so I could live. That's some guilt-trip I don't wish on anybody."

The Tucker elders watched them both with interest, but also in shock, realized that both of them had gone through some disturbing events in the Expanse.

"Do we tell them what came next?" Trip asked.

"They are our family, they should know how our relationship developed, even if it is not the proudest part of my history."

"Before Sim died, he had admitted to having a crush on T'Pol. Since he was essentially me, T'Pol knew that I was interested in more than being a friend. She was, too, but we both were too messed up to really dealing well with it. I was still in denial over Lizzy and she had been affected by Trellium-D, some substance that messed with her emotional control. One of the MACO's, Amanda Cole, who lived near our place in Florida, made the moves on me. First I didn't think much of it, but before you know we were doing neuropressure, mind you, far less intimate than with T'Pol."

"I became... jealous. Jealousy is an emotion that I should not have been capable to experience, but since I foolishly exposed myself to Trellium-D at the time, I experienced strong jealousy. It even had an adverse effect on my functioning properly."

"Well, at least in the gym," Trip chuckled slightly. "I was practicing hand-to-hand combat with Amanda, while T'Pol was sparring with some other MACO. When Amanda slapped my butt, T'Pol was so busy sending her the death stare, that she didn't even notice, that the MACO had sent a right hook in her direction and he mowed her down."

"You findn' it funny, when someone knocks yer girl on her ass?" Charles asked disapprovingly.

"No dad, of course not and there was no real danger of her getting injured, but it sorta made me happy, because at that point I knew she was interested in me, as I was about to find out. When we had our neuropressure that night, she-" Trip was interrupted by his father.

"Stop it there, boy. T'Pol, sweetheart, you guys are telling us details that even some human kids wouldn't talk about. If that has anything to do with you drinking beer, then perhaps we should continue that talk another time. I would hate it, if ya felt bad in the morning, because you told us more than ya wanted."

"Charles," T'Pol answered in an assuring voice, "under normal circumstances, I would not volunteer all of that information, not even to my family. But our circumstances are not normal. Vulcans are telepaths and I am considered to have very strong telepathic abilities. While you and Cathryn have been honest, polite and very welcoming, I also sensed an undercurrent of insecurity and doubt."

Cathryn tried to protest, but T'Pol stopped her.

"Cathryn, I do not make accusations. That insecurity, however unconscious it is, is justified. I know that Trip was writing frequently about me and I have made a lot of foolish decisions, which often ended in hurting Trip at that time. That would most likely reflect in his transmissions. You need all the facts, so you can be freed of that insecurity and the remaining doubts."

Cathryn and Charles nodded in understanding.

"During our nightly neuropressure session, I managed to steer Trip into a situation in which he admitted to being attracted to me, as was I to him, but there was still the threat posed by Amanda. Since touching ones behind is an exceedingly intimate gesture, I was afraid that she was preparing to engage in sexual relations, so I tried to claim him by doing it before she could."

Trip parents looked at them in open shock. Not about the fact that they were doing it – there had been audible proof of that, earlier that day. The shock came from the fact that a Vulcan, of all people, had admitted to it in an almost casual fashion.

"Unfortunately, I undid all this the next morning. I was panicking and told Trip that it had been a mere exploration of human sexuality."

"That must've hurt," Charles muttered.

"Not really dad. I was upset, sure, but a Vulcan would never engage in casual sex, not even this lil' cute maverick one over here. I knew that and I was more pissed off that she was trying to avoid admitting the obvious. I had admitted that I have the hots for her and she had quite unmistakably demonstrated that she had it for me, too, but she still wanted to sell me, that we're friends at best."

"I was in turmoil," T'Pol clarified. "The emotions, which Trip stirred in me, were confusing and most powerful. On one hand, I wanted to be with Trip and at the same time I also feared that we had no future. Many humans had become xenophobic in the aftermath of the Xindi-attack and on my homeworld, which was still ruled by V'Las' High Command at the time, we would have been punished for our relationship and it wasn't entirely unrealistic that they might have had tried to assassinate Trip."

"Jesus Christ," Charles gasped.

"Ya, learned from Soval the other day that this V'Las didn't even shy away from murder," Trip added, shaking his head.

"I thought, if I secluded myself, that Trip's feelings for me would subside or maybe Amanda Cole would would cause him lose interest in me. It was most painful for me, but still a preferable option over bringing potential harm to him."

"Well, ya don' know us Tucker men," Charles explained. "If we think we found the one that's fer keeps, we do everything for her, even if it hurts or kills us."

"As I was about to learn several weeks later on Vulcan. However, my seclusion was short lived. We took heavy damage in a battle with the Xindi-Reptilians and lost many crew members, several of which were from Trip's departments. Captain Archer assigned Trip the task of writing a letter to the parents of a fallen crew member."

"Crewman Taylor," Trip took over. "First I tried to think of her as just another of 17 killed people, just as I tried to convince myself that Lizzy was just another of 7 million victims. Didn't work out that way, especially since some Vulcan kept showing up and finally knocked some sense into me."

They took each others hand and drowned in each others eyes, as they had done quite often lately.

"Ahem, kids?" Cathryn asked softly and the lovebirds separated with a somewhat sheepish look.

"Oh, yeah, uh anyways. T'Pol finally made me realize that no one is 'just another victim'. Taylor was the damn best EPS engineer we had and if she was special, Lizzy was just as well. That's when the dam broke and I finally started to grieve."

"Don' worry boy, took me a whole lot longer to come to that point," Charles said and turned to T'Pol. "Y'know sweetheart, if it wasn't so improper, I'd probably wrap ya in one helluva bear hug for gettin' that boy o' mine through that. I don' care if ya two were too dang thick to tell each other that ya love each other, but ya done a world 'o good for helping him deal with Lizzie's death."

"It was the logical thing to do. I cared for him deeply, even if I frequently failed to show it in an adequate manner or tried to deny it at the time."

"Yeah, and then we met Lorian," Trip sighed.

"Who's that?" Cathryn asked, while handing out a new round of beer to all but T'Pol, who politely declined.

"That's your grandson, or was. Hell we don't really know _what_ happened to him."

"What? Grandson? And what does 'at mean, you dont' know? You have a toddler and don't know where he is or how he's doing?"

"Dad, if he's still alive, he's 102 by now. Doesn't sound much like a toddler to me, not even by Vulcan standards."

"Ya seem to have had too much of 'at already," Charles said in disbelief and waved his beer bottle. We might have a few more wrinkles than last time, but we're not even 60 yet so-."

"Time travel, dad. It gives ya a head ache, I know. Actually, there was an _Enterprise_ that had gotten thrown back in time, into another timeline – or alternate timeline – or just back in time in our own – no one really knows for sure. Anyway, they became a generational ship and since the Tucker charms are irresistible in any timeline, our counterparts had married and had a boy, Lorian. In fact, T'Pol's counterpart was the only of the original crew still alive, when the two timelines merged back and we crossed paths."

"So there were two _Enterprises_ now?"

"Indeed. The ship from the alternative timeline was captained by our son Lorian. He had your facial features, Charles, and he had his father's fair hair, albeit already grey."

"And his mother's cute ears," Trip butted in. "So in fact, there is – or was – a son of ours who's older than his parents combined."

"What happened to him?" Cathryn asked.

"We had to go through some subspace corridor to reach the Xindi council before they could pull the trigger on that dang weapon, but a species called Kovaalans were not very hot on sharing, so they pounced on us like a pack 'o dogs on a three legged cat. Lorian drew their fire on his ship so we could make a run for the tunnel, but he never followed through," Trip explained and his voice broke. T'Pol gently squeezed his hand.

"Maybe he just made a run for it, when he knew ya were through," Charles offered in consolation.

"There are 3 possible outcomes," T'Pol explained. "Since the timelines separated within the tunnel, the whole ship might have ceased to exist once we passed that point in time. The second option is that they fell victim to the superior Kovaalan force. The third one is that they somehow survived. Unfortunately, that's the least likely outcome."

"Dammit, is there any sort of bad stuff you two did not have to go through?"

"The selection is limited," T'Pol answered with a hint of frustration.

"You know, kids, maybe we should retire and continue this talk tomorrow;" Cathryn offered. "I'm getting very tired and it's an awful lot to process."

"Agreed."

=/\=

"You know, honey. Those kids have seen a lot of bad stuff," Cathryn sighed as they entered their bedroom.

"Yeah, hon, but they had each other to lean on. Did you notice? Even when they were hurting each other in love things, as soon as one of them was in real trouble, the other one was there. Those two are for keeps. I'm guessing we better start learning Vulcan."

=/\=

Trip woke up and found the other side of the bed empty. Looking up, he saw that T'Pol was still sitting in meditation – in the same place she had been in, when he had fallen asleep.

"Was dad right?" he asked and startled her out of her meditation.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you talk too much because of drinking beer?"

"No, I divulged all information in full consciousness."

"Before we came here, I spent a very long subspace talk with my 'rents, trying to explain to them how secretive Vulcans are. Yesterday you told them: 'Oh, yeah, I got your son laid that night, by the way'. And by the looks of things, you messed yourself up so badly in the process that you needed an entire night of meditation. What the hell was that all about?"

"It was exceedingly taxing to speak about it."

"So why did you do it? Hell, not even humans talk about such things easily – at least not with our parents."

"I spent a great deal of time, talking to your mother. She often recalled your childhood and it was easy to sense that she had doubts and worries about us. She was unconvinced that I would know and tend to your needs sufficiently."

"Those worries would have gone away by themselves."

"Perhaps; My divulging information inconvenienced me for one night, maybe two, but those doubts would have inconvenienced your parents for a longer time than that. Since my parents are already dead, yours are the closest remaining family members. It was logical to eradicate their doubts."

"Promise me something, darling? Whenever you think that you need to comfort someone by messing yourself up, please talk to me beforehand, OK?"

A small nod signaled her agreement, before she went back to her medication.

=/\=

"What ya doing darlin'?"

"I'm finishing my ship-wide announcement and a set of standing orders."

"Do ya have to do that **now**?"

"We go back to the ship tomorrow. They must be completed by then. Do you wish to return to the house, even though your parents are not yet back from their 'business'?"

Trip laughed. "Funny how they had 'business in town' almost every day."

"Indeed."

"But that means we're not using that private time efficiently enough. We can write orders while they're around, but we cannot..."

"Three times is surely enough to sate even your desires," she interrupted with amusement. "Would you like to run the risk of me becoming sore in inconvenient places?"

"Can't have that, but it's not like we're getting much chance to enjoy each other on the ship - not with that siren you..." An elevated eyebrow interrupted his teasing.

"The more you should be interested in me finishing my orders. One of them is to install soundproofing in the Captains quarters."

"Err ya, makes sense darlin'. What did you write as the reason? I mean, 'I'm prone to scream like a banshee, when my hubby pushes me over the top,' wouldn't quite string a chord with Starfleet," he teased.

"Officially it is installed to protect me from distracting noises from adjacent cabins and the corridor during meditation," she explained and handed him a PADD.

"MEXCRO-734? Darlin', they could detonate a mine in the corridor and we wouldn't hear it."

"Vulcan hearing is... sensitive," she said teasingly and Trip laughed out loud.

After a while Trip started to giggle again.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm just trying to paint the mental picture of the crew knowing that their captain writes down the latest orders, lying on a private beach butt-naked. How's that for improving crew morale."

"It would most likely work well with the male crew, but it would have an adverse effect on the females. I would not wish to cause... envy."

"Nothing wrong with your self-esteem, darlin'," he laughed and rewarded her sense of humor with a kiss.

"So how did you like it here?" Trip asked, once she had finished and put aside her last PADD.

"It was a most enjoyable time. Your parents have been most welcoming and seem to accept our union."

"Accept? They're absolutely thrilled and they adore you."

"That is gratifying to hear. I did find the amount of attention we drew in the city slightly unsettling. I do still not quite understand the motives of the two female children who reacted so emotionally to me writing my signature over a picture of us on their personal PADDs."

"Well those PADDs will never be used again and are probably hanging on their walls now. You're a hero, darlin'; they admire you. I know you don't like that much attention, but that's a helluva lot better than some xenophobes. Those two girls are the next generation. What do you think they'll teach their kids about a human and a Vulcan being together?"

"I believe I see your point. If that is a possible outcome, I can easily endure the attention."

"We're high-profile people - on both worlds. We'll probably get a lot of attention for quite a while, but we can make it work in our favor. If not for us, maybe the next couple will have it easier and no one will ever have to suffer like Soval and Rosalie again."

"Indeed. There are moments in which I find your logic most admirable," she teased and leaned in for a fourth round.


	9. Wrecked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kick Arse!T'Pol takes charge, but she and her chosen learn the hard way that the bond isn't a good thing in all situations...

The first thing they saw on their return from their visit to Trip's parents was Commander Reed and two security crewmen escorting a young ensign, whom Trip immediately recognized as Ensign Masaro, his hands shackled behind his back. Malcolm's scowl, already dark, grew deeper when he saw his two friends.

"Commander?" T'Pol asked, puzzled by the scene. For her tactical officer and friend to find it necessary to apprehend a crew member, something bad must have happened.

"We are escorting Ensign Masaro to the brig, Captain. He was caught in sickbay attempting to steal the DNA profiles and tissue samples of two crew members. Doctor Phlox came back from his shore leave just in time to prevent the theft."

"Whose samples?" Trip asked and T'Pol saw his features darken further. Since the ensign was one of Trip's engineers, she knew that he would take it personally that one of his people was caught committing such a crime.

"Yours and Captain T'Pol's," Malcolm answered with a sigh. T'Pol noticed that Malcolm eyed Trip warily, obviously expecting a violent or at least highly emotional response, but her mate surprised her by staying outwardly calm, although she could sense that his blood was boiling inside.

"Bring him to my ready room and watch him," she ordered, her own voice uncharacteristically thick with angry emotion. "As soon as we have changed into our uniforms, we will interrogate him."

=/\=

"As you are hopefully aware, Ensign, Vulcans are a race that puts a great deal of emphasis on personal privacy and the protection of an individual. By attempting to steal my DNA profile and tissue sample, you have not only violated my privacy, you have technically violated my body. Since I am a bonded female, this will inevitably end with a death sentence." T'Pol opened the interrogation, calmly.

"I- I'm an Earth citizen. Vulcan cannot prosecute me," Masaro stammered and T'Pol realized that it would not be very difficult to intimidate the ensign.

"Is that so?" she asked and stared him down with the iciest glare. "I am a citizen of Vulcan and Starfleet has an extradition treaty with my government. You are a dead man, Mr. Masaro."

T'Pol noticed Trip and Malcolm exchanging glances, fear and shock painted on their features. It was obvious that both had not expected her to be so calm and calculating when telling someone that he was a dead man walking.

"You- you can't kill me for stealing a data file and two vials," Masaro whined and his shocked expression told T'Pol that she had almost broken his resistance.

"Do not worry, the death will be painless. Vulcans are not a cruel race," she continued calmly.

"But- but-" Masaro was barely able to stutter, his face was a tortured grimace of sheer terror.

"As the violated female, I have the right to execute you personally. It will spare you the humiliation of a public tribunal," T'Pol continued, still staring daggers at him and she saw Trip getting almost physically sick at the thought that his mate would execute a crew member. "Who are your next of kin? It will be necessary to inform them when we are done here."

"They said it's just an easy job!" Masaro cried and wailed in panic. "They didn't even tell me what that is all about. They just told me to get your files and samples!"

"Who?" T'Pol asked and shot him a death stare – one she could clearly see frightened even Trip and Malcolm.

"Terra Prime. They- they recruited me after the Xindi attack. That's why I signed up for the mission in the first place. I wanted to kill as many of the bastards as I could. They killed my whole family... my parents... my brother... my baby sister... my girlfriend. She was pregnant with our first child. They killed her one week before our wedding." Masaro was now crying hysterically.

The three officers were taken aback momentarily, when they realized the sheer magnitude of Masaro's tragedy. T'Pol watched out of the window, trying to give the impression of being in deep thought, while in reality she had to fight hard to regain control. Nothing could justify Masaro's actions or his membership in a terrorist organization, but it made it at least somewhat understandable.

"I grieve with thee," T'Pol replied after a while, now seeing the reason behind it. "There will be no prosecution, as long as you give us every single detail you know. We will protect you from those who recruited you, but you _**must**_ be honest and tell us everything. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, ma'am," Masaro nodded, still sobbing. "When I heard that my family was gone, I- I hated all aliens. I hated Starfleet for going out there, telling everyone where Earth is, so that they could find and kill us all. That's why I enlisted, I wanted to kill them, before they could kill us. I was drinking... a lot, everyday. One day I was approached by a man who introduced himself as Josiah. He said that there were more people who think like me and that they were preparing to get all aliens out of the solar system."

"Where did this Josiah take you?"

"To Mars. I was snuck in with a team of civilian engineers doing work on the Orpheus mining facility. I was brought to the boss of the complex. He gave me the order to steal your files and your samples as a sort of initiation test for the organization."

"What is the name of the leader? Is he the leader of this 'Terra Prime' group?"

"His name is Paxton. I don't know if he's the leader of Terra Prime, but, even if he isn't he must be someone important, because everyone seemed to be falling over themselves to do what he wanted, including Josiah."

Depressing the button for the comm on her desk, "T'Pol to sickbay."

"This is Phlox."

"Doctor, please report to my ready room."

"On my way."

=/\=

"Doctor," she began when the portly Denobulan had arrived. "Ensign Masaro appears to be traumatized by the loss of his family to the Xindi attack. I want you to examine his psychological condition before transferring him to Starfleet Medical for additional treatment. Inform them that he is in danger of retaliatory action by a radical terrorist group so that appropriate security measures can be taken."

"As you wish, Captain," the Doctor replied and left with Masaro and two of Malcolm's security guards.

"Did you really plan to kill him?" Trip asked after the doctor had left, still unsettled by her display.

"No. Most of what I said was grossly exaggerated. It was merely meant to eradicate his resolve to protect those who ordered him to do what he attempted. This... scheme has worked successfully before, when we deceived the abductors of Princess Kaitaama."

"Didn't know that," Trip muttered.

"I recall that you were somewhat... occupied with other things at the time," T'Pol answered dryly and Trip frowned, when he saw that Malcolm found it hard to fight the laughter about his blush.

"Commander Reed," she continued and Malcolm immediately assumed an all-business stance again. "Captain Archer's log was somewhat ambiguous on the issue, but it mentioned that you had prior contact with a semi-official faction of Starfleet Security during the time of Doctor Phlox's abduction. Do you have ways to contact these sources again?"

"I'd rather not," Malcolm replied and Trip wondered what sort of contacts that must be if it was able to paint such an expression of distaste on his friends face.

"I understand, but I must ask you to do it nonetheless," T'Pol answered, "not as your captain, but as a friend. Someone has targeted Trip and myself. We must use all means available to uncover the reasons behind all this."

"I'll do it," Malcolm agreed with a nod a´nd a sigh. "I'll need about 3 hours. I'll report back, once I have something. I'll also need Hoshi to establish an encrypted channel."

"Thank you, Malcolm, you have my authorization," T'Pol answered and Reed left the room.

"What ya planning?" Trip asked, when Malcolm had left.

"We will assault the Orpheus mining facility and take Paxton into custody," T'Pol answered and Trip wondered about the visible anger on her face. She either was close to losing control or no longer bothered to hide it since he was the only one who could see it. Trip desperately hoped for the latter.

"You can't just go off half-cocked and attack the place," he tried to reason.

"I will clear it with Starfleet Command. Whatever this Paxton was planning, he was planning to target us, personally. Therefore we shall deal with, personally. Now, unless you intend to stay behind, report to Major Flannigan and get us two sets of MACO gear and body armor. You know my size."

"There're days when you really scare the raw crap outta me, darlin'," he muttered and left, confused and intimidated by T'Pol's sudden gung-ho attitude.

"T'Pol to Sato."

"Sato here."

"Establish a connection to Admiral Gardner and put it through to my ready room."

"Aye, Captain."

=/\=

Malcolm Reed was the last to arrive at the situation room, where T'Pol, Trip and a team of MACO's under command of Sergeant Cole were already waiting. He was taken aback, when he saw his two friends. Both wore body armor and a full MACO suit without rank insignia.

"Did you gain any useful information?" T'Pol asked as soon as he had taken position at the table. He called up an overhead view of the mining facility and its immediate surroundings and started his report.

"According to my sources, the mining facility is far more than what it seems to be. Although it is a civilian facility, far more armed guards than are outwardly necessary have been reported at the facility, particularly here, here, here and here," he explained and pointed at the appropriate access points on the schematic. "Their business dealings have been quite questionable, as their income from selling minerals and ore would not nearly be enough to cover the running costs of the facility. Over the last 5 weeks, the operator of the facility, a company called 'Paxton Mining Corp', ordered a large amount of medical and laboratory equipment. I have acquired a partial list and, according to Doctor Phlox, many of those items are usually needed for genetic research and – most peculiarly – postnatal medical care."

"They wanted to do genetic experiments with our DNA?" Trip hissed and Malcolm saw T'Pol putting a hand on his shoulder in order to calm him down.

"My sources weren't quite sure what to make of it. In light of Dr. Phlox's information, there are a number of possible options," Malcolm analyzed further. "They could plan to create bio-agents that specifically target you or they could use your DNA to plant it on any scene of a crime to implicate you. Doctor Phlox thinks that with the equipment they have, they theoretically could create clones like Sim if they had access to Lyssarian Desert Larvae."

Malcolm jumped when he saw the utter distaste and shock on his friends faces – mainly on Trip's face – when he mentioned Sim.

"I have acquired permission from Starfleet Command to mount an attack in order to apprehend Paxton and his co-conspirators," T'Pol informed and pointed at a remote location near the mining facility. "A task-force of Starfleet security will be standing by here and shall engage as soon as we give the signal.

Malcolm noticed all eyes being cast on him and he raised his hand in an unspoken request to give him a few minutes to analyze the situation. Usually, as the ships security officer, he should advise against sending the Captain and the third in command on such a hazardous mission, but especially with the personal and emotional component of the threat, he knew that the Vulcan captain and her mate would be even more intransigent than Captain Archer had ever been. Scrolling through several different displays in rapid succession, he formulated a preliminary plan.

"Alright," Malcolm started after several minutes of contemplation. "There is some sort of gorge here that is deep enough to hide the shuttle-pod from visual scans. About 100 minutes from now, a small comet will be deflected by the Verteron array to impact near the north pole. If we stay close behind it, we can exploit its wake to hide the shuttle-pod from the sensors until we're 10 meters above the ground. Below that altitude the sensors of Mars colony are completely blind. Once you're below 10 meters altitude, you have exactly 10 seconds to get far enough away to evade the brunt of the impact shockwave. You'll need to reach the gorge at an extremely low altitude, but, if you stay within the valleys and gorges on the surface, that shouldn't be too much of a problem, provided you're on the ball."

"I am trained in extremely low altitude flying," T'Pol noted. "I will pilot the shuttle."

Nodding, Malcolm continued his explanation. "Once you've landed in the gorge, you can enter the facility here. It's an air vent in a blind spot of their sensors. If you follow the duct, you will arrive here in corridor J, near the brig."

"We should check out the brig," Amanda Cole interrupted. "I doubt that they have the personnel to run a genetics lab, so we must consider the possibility that they have abducted medics or scientists to run the lab for them."

"A logical conclusion," T'Pol agreed. "You will see to that. We will regroup here. Resulting from the placement of the observation cameras, this spot near the conveyor belt should be a blind spot."

"You would make one hell of a MACO, Captain," Amanda returned with a smile.

"You will not require EV suits," Malcolm continued. "but the atmospheric buildup around Mars as a part of the terraforming effort is still in an early stage. The G-suits and the breathing masks are sufficient, however, you might experience an uncomfortable pain in the ears and eyes while outside, due to the low atmospheric pressure."

"How do we get through the duct? There must be some sort of seal, considering the pressure difference?" Trip asked.

"There is a seal inside the duct here," Malcolm explained and pointed towards the schematics. It is opened periodically every 10 minutes to release exhaust air into the atmosphere. You'll have to wait until such a cycle is complete. Once the cycle is through, you have 10 minutes to open the vent, get into the duct and seal it with a portable force-field generator. When the next cycle starts you have to crawl through the open seal and the last one to crawl through must manage to disable the force-field remotely without getting blown out by the rapid decompression."

"I'll do that," Amanda volunteered. "We can secure ourselves on the duct wall with magnetic clamps."

"Agreed," T'Pol nodded, indicating Malcolm to continue.

"When the seal closes, a second seal here at the exit opens to neutralize the pressure. You'll have 3 minutes to get out, so I advise to just jump out and stun any personnel in the corridor on sight. There won't be enough time to decide whether they're hostile or not."

"How do we avoid being detected?" Trip asked. "It's not like a pulse rifle shot is especially quite. You don't need any sensors to hear that racket."

"My team will modify your pulse rifles," Malcolm explained. "We'll lower the energy output. It will just be enough to stun someone for 3 to 5 minutes, depending on size and weight, but it'll be barely audible. That should give you enough time to secure them anyway. If you try to use the rifle at the kill setting, it will amount to a full stun blast, so use it only when absolutely necessary as it will set off their weapon discharge alarm. If deadly force is needed, you'll have to use the phase pistols."

"Do we know, where Paxton's office is located?" T'Pol inquired.

"Masaro's information was fairly vague, but it must be one of these three rooms. Since they don't expect intrusion and have to keep up a facade of being a normal civilian facility, I would assume that there is a sign on the door."

"What about their internal sensors? All those modifications are somewhat useless if they have an intruder alarm," Amanda asked.

Malcolm fished a small device from his pocket. "You will wear these. They are still in development, but they should be able to mask your biosigns from all but the most sophisticated sensors. My team has been working on those for quite a while and they are immune to all but a full-scale bio-sweep. I doubt they have such sophisticated technology down there, or the power reserves to do so."

"Have someone of your team load the devices and the modified rifles into shuttle-pod one," T'Pol ordered. "Sergeant Cole, as the highest ranking MACO, you will be in command of this mission."

"Your rank supersedes mine," Amanda replied and Malcolm noticed her confused look.

"Do you see any rank insignia?" T'Pol replied dryly, while pointing to her MACO outfit.

"Understood," Amanda agreed.

"One last thing," Malcolm added. "We should check that everyone of you can cope with the rapid pressure changes that you'll encounter in the duct. If we start immediately, you'll have about 20 to 30 minutes of practice time left."

"Do we have a pressure chamber?" Amanda asked.

"Since you will only encounter either normal or low-pressure, we can use the airlock," Malcolm explained.

"Ok, let's go get the pressure suits and get started," Amanda ordered and the MACO's as well as the ship's Captain and Chief engineer replied in unison: "Aye, Ma'am."

=/\=

Trip donned the tight fitting hood of his pressure suit, which reminded him of a combination overall and diving suit. Since he was an experienced diver, Amanda had tasked him with explaining what to do.

"Ok, when the pressure changes, you'll notice an uncomfortable pressure or light pain in the ears 'n eyes," he explained. "There's two methods of equalizing the pressure change. You can either just swallow while holding your breath or you press your breathing mask into your face until the clamp inside pushes your nostrils shut and then try breathing air into your nose. In either case, you'll notice a clicking sound in your ears and the pressure on your ears will lessen. Repeat the procedure whenever the pressure on them builds up again."

"Which one is more effective?" Amanda asked.

"That depends on the person," Trip explained. "In the first test run we'll lower the pressure slowly, so everyone can figure out which method works better for them. Afterwards, we'll increase the speed in pressure changes, so you can practice that, too. Let's go."

The small assault commando filed into airlock seven, where recently promoted Ensign Rostov waited at the controls.

"Rostov, you'll keep an eye on anybody. You're a diver yourself, as soon as you see someone struggling, stop the run immediately," Trip ordered and saw his engineer answer with a thumbs-up.

"Aye Chief."

As soon as the airlock seal was secure, Rostov started to lower the pressure and Trip eyed the MACOs and T'Pol in order to catch anyone, who might have trouble. Watching Amanda, he saw that she preferred the nose option, while T'Pol's frequently twitching neck muscles hinted at her preferring the swallow method. A thumbs-up signaled Rostov to raise the pressure again. Once the pressure was back to normal, he checked everybody.

"Anyone have trouble?"

When all answered with an abnegating head-shake, he gave Rostov a thumb-down motion to lower the pressure more rapidly.

Ten minutes later, the team prepared for the final test.

"Ok, that's the last run. We'll yank it down in less than 5 seconds, so everybody better lie down in case someone loses consciousness. Raise the right arm, so we'll immediately see when someone passes out," Trip instructed and prepared himself.

A loud hissing sound filled the airlock as the pressure lowered almost explosively. The room filled with fog due to rapid condensation of moisture in the air. All arms stayed up when Rostov raised the pressure in the same rapid manner.

Trip felt a hand on his shoulder, when they filed out of the airlock. "Not something I wanna do for a living," Amanda noted with a smile.

=/\=

Amanda watched T'Pol take the pilot seat, with Commander Tucker joining her in the cockpit. She checked the gear of all her MACO's while T'Pol hailed the bridge.

"Shuttlepod One to bridge."

"Bridge."

"Perform a sensor scan of launch bay one, report bio-signs."

"Negative, no bio-signs detected."

"Looks like Malcolm's little toys work just fine," Trip quipped.

"Everybody strap in," T'Pol ordered before hailing the bridge again.

"Shuttle-pod one to bridge. We are ready for deployment, give us a countdown for approach to the comet."

"Acknowledged."

The deployment arm lowered the shuttle-pod out of the launch bay and T'Pol kept it hovering below _Enterprise_ waiting for the countdown from the bridge.

"Bridge to Shuttlepod One, T-minus 20."

Amanda fastened her strap, watching T'Pol spool up the engines. She still had rather vivid memories of their last wild ride to dock with the _T'Planit_ and this one was shaping up to be even crazier. The final countdown sounded over the com.

"Ten, niner, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, go!"

With a swift motion, T'Pol fired up the engines and directed the shuttle towards the given coordinates. Amanda gasped slightly as the shuttle was rocked by the wake of the comet, which passed by in close proximity. She watched her captain as her hands flew over the controls, steering the shuttle into the tail wake of the comet.

"Everybody hold on to something," Trip warned as the shuttle started to rock and shudder in the turbulent wake of the comet.

" _Enterprise_ to Shuttlepod One."

"Shuttlepod One. Commander Reed?"

"Stay within 10 kilometers of the comet, else you might show up on the sensors of Mars colony."

"Acknowledged. Keep scanning and advise us immediately of any new developments."

"Aye, Captain."

"I wonder if we will ever have a smooth ride with you, Captain," Amanda remarked in reference to the violent shaking of the shuttle-pod as they hurtled down in the wake of the recently deflected comet, which has expected to slam into Mars' north pole region in a matter of minutes. T'Pol didn't answer.

"Everybody brace for deactivation of inertial dampers," T'Pol informed calmly, while Trip silenced the ground proximity warning by flicking a switch on the overhead panel.

Amanda could almost hear the adrenalin rush through her veins as her stomach seemed to slam into her lungs the moment Trip flicked the switch that shut down the inertial dampers. Seeing the ground coming up way too quickly for her comfort, she closed her eyes and held her breath. Low hissing sounds could be heard as the G-suits struggled to compensate for the violent G-forces, when T'Pol leveled the shuttlepod off with a wide sweep away from the impact site, hovering mere meters above the ground. A short while later, the shuttle was rocked violently as the shockwave hit them from behind. The relatively thin atmosphere enabled T'Pol to stabilize the craft in a matter of seconds.

"Activate topological HUD. Calculate trajectory to target coordinates, maximum altimeter 5 meters AGL," T'Pol ordered while Trip's hands flew over the overhead panel, before he started programming the flight computer.

"Automatic flight envelope restrictions deactivated, manual elevator and aileron control established," he acknowledged.

Although Amanda understood only half of what was said, she had a feeling that it wasn't good news. The idea of screaming along the valleys mere meters above ground was not a very pleasurable prospect. The only thing that kept her cool was the sight of the two pilots working together in perfect harmony.

"Setup completed, thrusters online, thrust delimiter set at 350 kph, impulse engines idle and configured for emergency takeoff."

Trip's words had barely left his mouth, when Amanda's breath was taken away by a massive acceleration. She fixed her glance to Trip's head-rest, desperately avoiding to look out of the front screen as the landscape sped by in way too close proximity. The G-suits were busy keeping the G-forces in check as T'Pol coolly and mind-bogglingly quickly operated the manual flight controls. Amanda sent a silent prayer of gratitude that their pilot was a Vulcan.

Her heart almost stopped when a loud bang, followed by a screeching sound drowned out the loud hissing of the maneuvering thrusters.

"Impact with terrain, starboard stabilizer down, rerouting power to port stabilizer to compensate," Trip reported frantically, while working on several switches and buttons on the overhead panel.

A short while later Amanda could feel the shuttlepod decelerate as they approached the target coordinates. Negative G-forces had never felt so great before.

=/\=

"Myers, you'll stay back here and stand watch," Amanda ordered as they prepared to disembark. "Trip, you stay here, too and try to patch up the stabilizer, in case we need to leave in a hurry."

"Aye," Trip and Corporal Myers answered.

"Everybody check your masks. Captain, you go ahead, I'll bring up the rear. We'll move single file and keep a low profile, in case they do a visual sweep. Complete radio silence."

Amanda followed the row of soldiers as they drew nearer to the Orpheus Mining Facility.

=/\=

Carefully, T'Pol positioned her foot in the clasped hands of Sergeant Cole, still studying the outer wall of the complex. Ignoring the piercing pain in her ears, she let the muscled human female hoist her up on her shoulders, while the rest of the force huddled against the wall. As soon as the hissing of the last exhaust cycle subsided, she ripped the grill off the air vent and handed it down to one of the MACOs, before pulling herself into the duct.

One by one, the soldiers where hoisted up by Amanda Cole, before Corporal Randall reached down to help her up into the duct. Once inside, she quickly secured the portable field generator to the wall and resealed the vent.

As soon as T'Pol saw Amanda's acknowledging hand-sign, she started crawling towards the first seal. The MACOS activated their magnetic clamps, which were fastened to their belts and fixed themselves to the metal walls of the air duct. T'Pol prepared for the first compression cycle.

Exhaust air rushed in as soon as the seal opened and, once the pressure had risen to the appropriate levels, T'Pol deactivated the clamp and crawled behind the seal. She watched on as Amanda latched on to the wall behind the seal and stemmed her feet into the outer frame of it to avoid a blow-out. T'Pol swallowed in rapid succession as the pressure fell rapidly, once Amanda had deactivated the force-field.

=/\=

Nathan Wallows reacted to the warning beep on the console of the environmental control center.

"What's wrong?" a tall black man with a pulse rifle inquired.

"Something was sucked up into the J-duct and clogged it," he reported and kept his eyes on the tall man. Josiah was known to become violent for the most banal of reasons. Every Terra-Primer gave that man a wide berth if possible.

"Wait if it blows out with the next cycle, if not, send a repair team."

"Yes sir," he replied and watched the pressure readouts, which suddenly showed a rapid drop in air pressure. "It's been blown out, Sir."

"Good for the asshole who left his shit lying around," Josiah grumbled and turned to leave the control room.

Wallows let out a sigh of relief, once the black giant was out the door.

=/\=

One by one, they dropped out of the air duct.

A short while later, thuds audible only to T'Pol's exceptional hearing told her that Sergeant Cole's team had disposed of the guards near the brig and another stun blast meant that they had taken the security center as well. There was now no one left to operate and check the observation cameras.

=/\=

"We're from _Enterprise._ " Amanda told the badly battered woman they found in the first cell, glad for once of all the press that had surrounded Earth's first deep-space ship and assured that no one in the system would fail to recognize its name, "Who are you?" The fresh blood was proof that the woman's tormentors had only recently left her here.

"Khouri, Susan Khouri." Amanda brought her ear down to understand the pained voice of the woman, which was barely above a whisper. "You must stop them. They're going to kill it."

"Who? Kill What?"

"Paxton and his men. The whole complex is a cover-up. They're mining only useless rock." the woman groaned. "As soon as they have the DNA samples, they will force me or someone else to create the cloned child. It'll die...," Unconsciousness cut her short.

"Randall, get her to the shuttle. Use the conveyor belt to get out," Amanda ordered. "Have Commander Tucker take off and bring her to Phlox as soon as possible. If she regains consciousness, find out everything you can."

"Yes, ma'am."

=/\=

"The guards and the security guard are bound and gagged. We freed one hostage. She was badly injured," the sergeant reported after regrouping with T'Pol's forces. "She said that the whole complex is a scam, that the ore here is less than worthless. She said that they want to create a cloned child as soon as they have your DNA samples and that the child will die. I've sent Randall to the shuttle to bring her back to the ship, there's no turning back now."

Amanda looked on in surprise. Captain T'Pol's face had, until now, been the stoic mask every Vulcan wore all the time, but in the blink of an eye it had turned into a grimace of sheer rage. Her nostrils were flaring. Whatever the cryptic message had meant, it was enough to break the calm of a Vulcan. She had never seen an angry Vulcan before and she wasn't keen to see one anytime soon again.

"We will take Paxton's office first," Amanda instructed in a low voice. "Before we neutralize him, we'll call in the cavalry to sweep all offices. Stun everyone, we can ask questions later."

All soldiers and T'Pol nodded their acknowledgment and the group started to sneak off to where Paxton's office was presumed to be.

Navigating the corridors and keeping near the walls, the team made its way to Paxton's office. Amanda indicated two of her soldiers to take position left and right of the office entrance, kneeling down right in front of the door with her weapon in aiming position.

T'Pol opened her communicator and ordered in a low voice: "T'Pol to security team, move in!"

"Acknowledged. Moving in."

Amanda gave T'Pol the hand signal to shot the control panel. According to civilian workplace security protocols, the door should open as soon as the panel short-circuited, which was exactly what it did. What was meant to be a safeguard for emergencies gave them entrance into Paxton's office.

Two quick hisses of pulse rifle fire dropped a pair of tall, black males onto the desk that occupied the front of the room. Amanda had fired as soon as the opening door had given her a clear area of vision. On her signal, three of Amanda's team left to secure the other offices and rendezvous with the forces of Starfleet security.

"Well, well, well," Paxton opened smugly. "The Vulcan graces us with her presence. I didn't ask Masaro for a live sample, but we can work with that."

Noticing a movement behind the huge United Earth flag that extended all the way to the ceiling behind Paxton's desk, Amanda shot at full stun through it and that wiped all the smugness from Paxton's face. As the flag fell, pulled off its hooks by the force of the blast, the goon that had been hidden behind it was rendered unconscious.

"Sergeant. Apprehend him," T'Pol instructed, keeping Paxton in her aim, seemingly having regained her calm.

"Hands on your back and bend forward," Amanda demanded, but Paxton didn't move, retaining a smug, but forced expression on his face. As a weapon fanatic, he immediately recognized the distinctive click of a pulse rifle being changed from a stun to a kill setting, not knowing that the rifles were 'softened'.

"BEND FORWARD," Amanda shouted in anger. Grabbing his hair with one hand, she slammed his face violently onto his desk before grabbing both the man's arms before he could shake off the momentary disorientation. Attaching the shackles and grabbing the immobilized Paxton by the collar, she growled in his bloodied face. "You messed with the wrong people, you fucked up piece of shit."

"T'Pol to Starfleet Security. We have him secured."

"Acknowledged, we'll round up the rest of the lot. Good work Captain."

=/\=

Malcolm Reed and Hoshi Sato were the last of the senior officers to arrive for the first staff meeting since the raid of the mining facility.

"Good morning everybody," T'Pol opened with Archers customary greeting. "Our attack of the Orpheus Mining Facility has been a success. 43 members of Terra Prime have been apprehended and are awaiting trial. 250 more supporters have been taken into custody in several countries."

"And that's probably just the tip of the iceberg," Hoshi added, shaking her head.

"Likely," T'Pol continued. "Doctor, how is the condition of Dr. Khouri?"

She noticed how the Doctors face adopted an uncharacteristically sad expression as the Denobulan delivered his grim diagnosis.

"She will most likely not survive the next 24 hours. Her internal injuries are far too extensive. Corporals Myers and Randall performed first aid excellently, which allowed me to question her during the two hours she regained consciousness last night."

"What did you find out?"

"Paxton and his followers planned to create a binary clone using your and Commander Tucker's stolen genetic material. Dr. Kouri was forced to engineer a deliberate genetic defect to ensure that the child would not survive more than a few months. The motivation to commit such a heinous crime, however, eludes me."

T'Pol barely noticed the shocked faces all around the table before she began to struggle to contain the overwhelming, primal rage that his words had caused to flare inside her. Quickly rising from her chair, she turned away to keep anyone from seeing her pained grimace as she desperately fought to contain her violent emotions.

Trip let out a blood-curling scream, which startled her and turning around she was just in time to see his head fall hard onto the table. He was unconscious. Uncertain as to why this had happened but assuming that her battle to suppress her emotions had somehow spilled over into his mind, her rage dissipated almost instantly. The shock and his fading presence in her mind lessened her control even further and she started to shiver uncontrollably.

She never noticed Hoshi and Malcolm rushing to her side, or Phlox sedating her with a hypo-spray from the med-kit he never left sickbay without.

Quickly, Malcolm hoisted her unconscious body into his arms and sped off towards sickbay, followed by an anxious Phlox and Travis carrying their chief engineer.

"Hoshi, you have the bridge," Malcolm ordered before stepping into the turbo-lift.

=/\=

Despite being the one with the lightest payload, Phlox was fairly out of breath when the trio arrived in sickbay.

"Put them down, but do not put them into contact," Phlox ordered.

"Doctor-" Malcolm started to protest.

Phlox remembered that T'Pol had briefed the tactical officer as well as Hoshi about the bond she and Trip shared and waited for Travis to leave sickbay before providing an explanation. "Their bond is the reason for the commander's unconsciousness. Direct contact would make their situation even worse. I'm not sure what exactly happened, but the captain seemed to be struggling to suppress her emotions before Mr. Tucker passed out. Until I can take some scans, I can only assume that his mind was unprepared for such an onslaught, causing him to loose consciousness. Putting them in contact would only strengthen the bond and, thus, the problem. I need to contact the Vulcan consulate."

"Ambassador Soval is the head of their clan," Malcolm provided, accepting Phlox's explanation with a simple nod. "I think he'll know what to do."

"As soon as I get them stabilized, I'll contact him, but for now you must let me do my ,work. I will keep you and Lieutenant Sato appraised of their condition."

"Thank you, Doc," Malcolm answered and turned to leave after touching Phlox's shoulder in a gesture that was designed more to calm himself than the doctor.

Phlox inserted IV's into each of his patient's arms, inducing artificial comas that would lessen the strain on their minds. Checking the couple's vital signs one last time, Phlox went to his office and hailed the bridge.

"Phlox to Lt. Sato."

"Sato here."

"Please open an emergency channel to Ambassador Soval and route it to my office."

"Acknowledged. Is it bad?"

„Later, Hoshi, later, please give me Soval.“

=/\=

Soval strode briskly into his office and sat down in front of the view screen, before answering the emergency hail.

"Dr. Phlox," he said and, quickly putting the pieces together, "I assume Captain T'Pol has been injured."

"Indeed, Ambassador. Both she and Commander Tucker have suffered a substantial neurological shock. It is imperative that they are tended to by a healer or an experienced melder."

Soval needed a second to control his surprise at the nature of the injury. "Do you have any information about the cause of the shock?"

"Captain T'Pol appeared to have difficulties suppressing her emotions after learning of most disturbing news and, by extension, her emotions appear to have overwhelmed Commander Tucker. I would go as far as to guess that his shock was by far greater"

"What have you done to stabilize them?"

"I have induced an artificial coma, but time is of essence. They should not stay in such state any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Indeed. You have done well, Doctor. I will rendezvous with your vessel within the day."

"Acknowledged," Phlox answered and closed the connection.

"Assistant Skoran, report to my office," Soval hailed.

 


	10. Vulcan Telepathy Bootcamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip watches a cartoon with Soval, while Archer works as a nurse. Enterprise's crew expects reinforcements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some passages in this chapter make more sense when you have read Alelou's "Season One Missing Scenes", which you can find on ff.net.

"Computer, start recording!"

_"Acting Captain, Commander Malcolm Reed, starlog March 27h, 2155. We are en-route to New Xindus on a diplomatic mission to mediate in inter-racial talks between the Xindi, with the goal of reinstating the Insectoids in the Xindi council. This mission has been requested by the Aquatics. The estimated arrival time is 8 weeks from now._

_After their neurological shock, Captain T'Pol and Commander Tucker have regained consciousness and have started a rehabilitation program under observation of Subcommander Soval. The Ambassador has been temporarily relieved of his diplomatic posting and his former rank of Subcommander has been reinstated for the duration of this mission by the Vulcan Ministry of Security. Since he is a trained field-medic, in addition to his diplomatic training, I have assigned him as assistance medical officer to Doctor Phlox' department. We hope that his diplomatic experience will be of help, when we arrive at New Xindus. Until then he will oversee the rehabilitation training of our senior officers, who are expected to return to duty tomorrow._

_The engine tests, conducted under observation of acting Chief engineer Lieutenant Anna Hess have been successful and we have now a safe cruising speed of warp 5.75 at our disposal. We plan to use this unexpected speed surplus to make a detour. We hope to find the Illyrian vessel, that we were forced to strand, when we took their warpcoil by force. Although the incident happened almost a year ago, we could still cut their return journey by two years, if we manage to find them and give them one of our spare warpcoils."_

"Computer stop recording!"

=/\=

"I still do not understand, how the – admittedly disturbing – mental picture of of a cloned child, created for the sole purpose to die, could cause such a violent reaction in Captain T'Pol," Phlox inquired, looking at his new assistant medic for explanation. "And what possible purpose could the creation of a hybrid binary clone serve?"

"Concerning the purpose of creating the clone, the answer is disturbing, but fairly obvious. There have been comparable racist tendencies on Vulcan during the tenure of Administrator V'Las. Many misguided individuals on both worlds claimed that condoning the conception of hybrid offspring would endanger the purity and the very survival of their respective races."

"Subcommander, you can't be serious," Phlox exclaimed in exasperation. "How can a miniscule minority of hybrids endanger a race of billions of individuals?"

"I did not claim those views to be logical, doctor. Creating a hybrid child and letting it die under public scrutiny, would have enabled the perpetrators of that crime to claim that Human-Vulcan hybrids were not viable, in the hope to discourage inter-species relationships, thus adding – however dubious - credibility to their racist views."

"Unbelievable," Phlox muttered wide-eyed. "But that does not yet explain the violent reaction of Captain T'Pol."

"Even if the child would not have born of the womb, T'Pol would have inevitably established a maternal bond, especially considering her extraordinary telepathic abilities. The death of the child would have caused an unimaginable agony by severing that bond and it is unlikely that she would have survived this and subsequently Charles may have lost his life as well, due to the severing of their mating bond. Most full-blooded Vulcan pairs do not share the luxury of such a strong bond."

"I understand," Phlox replied, as he began to understand the magnitude of Soval's explanation. "She realized that this would have endangered her unlikely offspring and her mate. The instinctive Vulcan defensive reflexes caused that violent reaction."

"Indeed. Adding the fact that T'Pol's emotions have always been close to the surface and that Charles is not yet proficient at shielding his mind, her reaction caused a cascading effect, which incapacitated both mates."

"Have you established a recovery regime that will allow both of them to avoid such episodes in the future?" Phlox asked with unconcealed concern. "After all, we cannot risk both of them becoming incapacitated whenever their bond is threatened and I do not know, how many more of these shocks Commander Tucker can overcome."

"The most important task is to improve his telepathic abilities. They are fairly remarkable already, not only for a human and they are only the result of frequent touch-telepathic contact during their neuropressure sessions, according to his own testimony. Touch-telepathic contacts are almost negligibly weak in comparison to the intense mental connection of a mind-meld. I recently melded with Charles and I found his mind to be most surprisingly adaptable. If my estimations are correct, he might even reach a level of telepathic ability that might allow him to initiate a mind-meld on his own, although most likely only with T'Pol or possible future offspring."

"Fascinating," Phlox enthused and put one of the recent brain scans of Commander Tucker on the view screen. "I may have a theory about his talent for telepathy. This is the region that has seen constant heightened activity, ever since the bond between Commander Tucker and Captain T'Pol has been known to exist. It is fair to assume that it is the region that adapted to telepathic contact as it is underused in the average human brain. It is part of the region that has received transplanted tissue from the mimetic symbiont. The Lyssarian Desert Larva, which we used to grow the mimetic symbiont did also equip Sim with the complete experience and memories of Commander Tucker. This would only be possible if it possessed considerable telepathic and emphatic abilities."

"I do not know much about this species, but your theory appears to be sound. It would provide a logical explanation for Charles' exceptional disposition to adapt to telepathy and the location of the adapting cerebral region. It certainly warrants further study."

"I must conduct more research on the matter," Phlox babbled with almost overzealous enthusiasm.

"I shall now pay another visit to my patients," Soval interrupted Phlox's ramblings. "It would be prudent to conduct regular brain scans of Charles to validate that the regular mind-melds do not prove too taxing on his mind. There is not much knowledge about the reaction of the human mind to Vulcan telepathic influence."

"I agree," Phlox replied and watched on as Soval left sickbay to visit the recovering pair.

=/\=

Trip opened the door, revealing their visitor to be Soval.

"Come in, 'Subcommander'," he offered with a boyish grin. The thought of the much older and wiser Soval being of equal Vulcan rank as his youthful mate had once been, before she became captain, had been a constant source of entertainment over the last few days. Thankfully, Soval had taken the relentless teasing of the only human member of his clan in good spirit.

"Thank you, Charles," he replied and Trip's grin widened when he saw Soval's very elevated 'brow of mildly annoyed amusement'.

Trip observed the exchange of wordless nods between Soval and T'Pol, before the clan chief addressed them.

"Was your meditation successful?" he asked Trip and the engineer had to remind himself that it was Vulcan tradition to address the male, even if the female was the topic of the conversation.

"Yeah, quite well. I got a bit foggy in the head after an hour, this being my first day without the pain-killers, but T'Pol got in a full five hours."

"Very well," Soval explained. "We shall start or regimen of regular mind-melds today. We will keep our first contact short to avoid overtaxing your recovering mind, Charles and we shall extend the duration progressively. For the moment, I will initiate the melds, but once you are sufficiently proficient in the practice, you shall initiate the meld, T'Pol- _kan_ and you will conduct them without my participation in the future."

T'Pol nodded her agreement, as did Trip.

"In addition to improving Charles' telepathic abilities, we must also instruct him in mental shielding techniques to avoid that either of you inadvertently overwhelms the respective mate's emotional control again."

"Agreed." T'Pol consented and joined Trip on the meditation cushions. Soval sat down, facing them and brought his hands to their faces. Trip felt Soval's fingers come to rest on the appropriate contact points before drifting off.

=/\=

Soval looked around and found himself in an endless, completely void, white space. Raising an interested eye-brow, he turned to observe his two charges, who stood at a comfortable distance and stared at each other in unconcealed awe. As far as he was aware, his niece had only been in two mind-melds – an aborted, coerced one and the clinically medical one, with which T'Pau had healed her Pa'nar Syndrome. Charles had only experienced the very brief contact, when Soval had evaluated his latent telepathic abilities. It was apparent that the two young minds before him had not expected the exceeding intensity and intimacy that was part of a mind-meld with their respective mate. The wise old Vulcan wondered, how they would react to the even more intimate contact, which would characterize a meld without his participation.

Soval watched Charles approach him, while T'Pol stayed behind, still staring at her mate in disbelieving surprise.

"Isn't much of an interior designer, is she?" the human remarked and waved his arm, pointing at the white vastness inside T'Pol's mind. Almost as expected, the elder noticed T'Pol's eye-roll, which signaled her annoyance.

"The visual presentation of one's mind is a highly subjective decision. While T'Pol- _kan_ 's selection may appear... fairly simplistic, it has no degrading influence on the function of her mind."

"So what does yours look like?" he asked.

Soval was about to start lecturing him about this unseemly curiosity, before reminding himself that a non-curious human was about as unimaginable an idea as a docile Andorian or a well-spoken Tellarite. Remembering that the young human was merely acting naturally, he explained: "I prefer the ancient ruins of Gol for my time of contemplation. It may present an opportunity for your first lesson. Modify the vista to meet your preference."

"How?"

"Try," Soval answered cryptically and watched Trip. He saw how the humans eyes narrowed and the tip of his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek – a gesture that T'Pol- _kan_ had explained to be an indication of deep thought and concentration.

Mere moments later the trio found themselves in a garishly colored, simplistic looking world. Startled by an increasing howling sound from above, Soval looked up an saw a dark object falling in their direction. Taking a few steps aside he avoided being hit as the charred, black object hit the ground and revealed itself to be a facsimile of an animal, vaguely resembling an Earth canine with an oversized nose. Its limbs were twisted in an anatomically unsound fashion after the fall.

Bewildered, Soval watched the creature repeatedly giving chase to a bird-like animal, which emitted most peculiar ' _meep, meep_ ' sounds, while the canine tried to catch or maul it, which in every attempt ended with the canine suffering some sort of misadventure that defied basic medicine, anatomy and the laws of physics. It was often using physically unsound contraptions apparently made by an entity called 'ACME' and any logical mind would have foreseen the rather unfortunate outcome of such folly.

Looking towards his two charges, he saw Charles sitting on the ground, laughing hysterically, while T'Pol stood nearby, watching her mate with an unconcealed smile. While it was neither unseemly, nor unheard of, for a Vulcan to openly express emotions within one's mind like that, such an unmistakable and lasting display was rather rare, especially if a 3rd party shared the experience.

"You appear to be equally amused by this... carnage," Soval stated in surprise.

"Not at all. It falls into a category of human humor that I have yet to comprehend, but I take great comfort in hearing Trip laugh. It is a great source of emotional contentment."

"Fascinating," Soval uttered and watched Charles's wild display of joy.

=/\=

_6 weeks later_

Trip corrected the collar of his shirt, before sitting down in front of the view screen. The next bulk-transmission to Earth was scheduled for the next morning and he was long overdue for a video-message to his folks. The last one had been almost 3 weeks ago.

"Computer start recordin'!"

 _"_ Hi Mom, Hi Dad,

Thought I'd record a quick message before my two Vulcan drill sergeants show up for the next round of 'Vulcan telepathy boot camp'. Don't worry, it's half as bad as it sounds, in fact I like it a lot."

_We are not in a... camp, nor does our practice involve any foot wear, ashayam._

_"_ You don't get it, darlin'. Ask Hoshi. Oh... err... sorry folks. You see, T'Pol just spoke to me in my head again; started last week. While it's sure nice to hear her voice without her being in the same room even, it sure as hell can be confusing, if you're not prepared. And that's not even considering that she can nag the hell outta me and I can't even walk away from it, like dad does when he gets an earful. _"_

_Vulcans do not nag._

_"_ The hell they do, darlin'. Oh... anyways. Too bad, I can't talk back... yet. Well I often do, but out loud, which has earned me a few strange looks here and there. Phlox and Soval think that with more training I will be able to, but for now my powers end at flashing her pictures and simple thoughts. Not that it isn't a funny thing, mind you."

_Please refrain from practical demonstrations. I am in a department meeting with Malcolm._

_"_ Yesterday Soval had me training to show her pictures by prompt. When he asked me to show her an 'animal used for riding', I flashed her a picture of Porthos with hoofs and a saddle... _"_

_Stop laughing please, ashayam. You are distracting me. I do not wish to 'shut you out', but I may be forced to do so if you can't erect your own shielding._

_"_ Sorry, darlin'. Anyways... folks, you should have heard it. T'Pol actually laughed again – in my mind of course, not out loud, but I swear to god, that's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. If she wasn't the captain of this boat, I'd be flashing her silly images all day, just to hear it. _"_

_It is gratifying to know that you remember my... 'day job'._

"Oooh, a Vulcan zinger before lunch time. Gimme a moment folks..."

_Thank you._

"Mom, dad, sorry 'bout the interruption, but I had to pull myself together somewhat. As funny as it is to mess with T'Pol's mind, but when we're on duty it can be a serious distraction and I'm still learning to shield my stray thoughts. I hope one day it'll become second nature, but for now I still need to stop what I'm doing to get my shields up. Certainly isn't easy to be bonded to a Vulcan, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It's the best thing that ever happened to me."

"So, how's things over there, dirtside? Hope to hear from you soon.

Cheers, folks and a peace 'n long life from T'Pol, too. _"_

_Ashayam, our meeting is over. It appears that Malcolm has noticed that I was slightly distracted. He asked me if we were 'fiddling each other' in our heads. What does he refer to and what does playing a musical instrument have to do with it?_

Instead of flashing her an unmistakable picture, Trip just sank to the floor laughing and he was sure T'Pol would enjoy his radiating mirth much more than an honest answer.

=/\=

When head nurse Melinda McFadden came to start her shift in the intensive care unit that for over two months had now been housing the still comatose Captain Erika Hernandez, she met a very familiar situation. Wearing a white lab coat, a haggard looking Captain Archer was gently wiping the patient's face with a wet cloth, performing the morning hygiene. That would normally be her own job, but she had given up demanding it back, ever since the Starfleet hero had taken it over without asking anyone, weeks ago.

While many in the clinic were genuinely moved by the Captain's devotion to Captain Hernandez, lately worry about him had been expressed by many. He seemed to completely neglect his own welfare over that of Erika Hernandez. He would come in the early morning, sit and read to her, perform the morning hygiene before leaving to attend to his duties, only to return in the evening and sit with the patient until deep in the night, sometimes just gently brushing her hair and softly speaking to her.

Today things would be different and the worry about Captain Archer made way for a feeling of great relief. Just half an hour ago the Vulcan healers had agreed that it was now safe to get her out of the artificially induced long time coma.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Good morning, Melinda. How often have I asked you to call me Jon?"

"I stopped counting after the 100th time," she said with an apologetic smile. "But just as often have I told you, why I won't."

"I know," he said and she could clearly sense his exhaustion, just from the way his voice sounded.

 _Time to give out the Christmas presents,_ she thought with glee.

"I have something for you, Sir," she said with a big smile and handed over a PADD.

=/\=

He pushed the "show message button", unsure what to expect.

_Jon,_

_You are hereby ordered to take two days off. First of all, Ambassador V'Lar has complained that you look like hell, in her roundabout Vulcan way and more importantly I've been informed that Erika will be taken out of the coma. Since I gather that you would be even more useless than usual, if you couldn't be there when she wakes up, I made sure that you can. Just try to get at least enough sleep to not end up in a hospital bed yourself._

_When you get back to duty on Wednesday, report to my office. We have a meeting with a blue guy, who wants to become a Starfleet captain._

_All the best for you and Erika,_

_Gardner, Admiral._

"Sorry," he muttered and turned away from the nurse, somehow feeling embarrassed by the tears of joy, he was unable to fight back.

"It's ok," he heard her say softly. "I'll give her the injection now and she should start to wake up in one or two hours. Just summon the doctor, when she comes to."

"Thanks," he uttered in a weak voice, still trying to stop the tears.

=/\=

He felt a pang of guilt when he saw T'Pol flinch for a split-second.

"Sorry, guess that was a tad to quick, wasn' it?"

"Yes. But do not concern yourself it will take time until you can control the speed with which you modulate your mind's shielding. "

"Ok, I'll try again."

She flinched again.

_..ry... try.. harder._

He saw T'Pol's eyes open wide. "I heard your thoughts."

"What?"

"Did you plan to say 'Sorry, I will try harder'?" she asked.

"I'd have thrown in a 'darlin' there, too, but yeah. Did I get it through to your mind?"

"Partially, some fragments were missing."

"I'm getting better at this. Ok, let's try the shielding bit again."

He saw her flinch.

_Damn!_

=/\=

He had lost track of time. Had it been one hour or two, maybe even three?

His thoughts where interrupted, when he felt a tiny twitch of the hand he'd been holding the entire time. Coming out of his lethargy, he noticed her eyes where open, but unfocused.

"Hi there," he said softly. "Erika, can you hear me?"

"Jon?" she asked back, barely audible as her voice was hoarse after months of inactivity. His heart started to pound, when he realized that she had recognized him.

"Where are you, Jon, I can't see you?"

"Shhh, everything's ok," he said soothingly and put his hand on her forehead to stop her from rolling her head left and right aimlessly. With the other hand he reached over to summon the doctor.

=/\=

Erika sighed in frustration. Even if Jon and the doctor had repeatedly assured her yesterday that her eyesight would be returning in a matter of days, it was still a haunting experience to wake up after the first night of sleep, rather than coma, in complete darkness without any idea what time it was. It almost drove her insane.

Concentrating on noises around her, she noticed some idle chatter from outside. Obviously it was at least day, already.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hernandez," she heard the head nurse say.

"Good morning. At least you dropped the Captain. I don't need to be constantly reminded that I should be on a ship now, not here," she sighed bitterly.

"Well, I didn't manage to get her to do that, so you've got one over me," a second – very familiar voice added.

"Jon?"

"Well, whom else did you expect, honey?"

She felt how, he gently caressed the back of her hand.

"I guess, I'll leave you two alone for a while," the nurse said and although she could not see it, Erika was sure that the nurse wore a shit-eating grin when she left the room.

"What's going on, Jon, you haven't called me honey, since..."

"Since I had to to report to Max to be ordered to leave you, I know. But one of the last things he did before he died was to make sure that this wouldn't happen again. Gardner trashed the order and gave his blessing. That means,... if you still want this bitter old warhorse."

She felt a soft kiss on the back of her hand and gave his hand a soft squeeze in return.

"There's enough hay in my stable for an old warhorse," she whispered and her eyes became moist with tears of joy as she realized what he had said. "But you'll soon ship out again, do you really think it could work?"

"Well, both ship out, together," he said and she could hear the boyish glee in his voice.

 _Old warhorse my bottom,_ she thought. "Care to enlighten me? If I'm ever going to ship out again, that certainly won't be very soon and how could I be on your ship without being busted back to Commander?"

"Because it'll be your ship, I'll just be some Commodore playing fleet commander on your boat."

"Breathe on me, Jon. Did you drink?" she asked in disbelief.

Instead of used air being blown up her nostrils, she felt a passionate kiss, that she eagerly returned. _Well he's certainly sober._

"Ok, you didn't drink," she conceded breathlessly. "So you're serious that I'll get the flagship and we'll be stationed together?"

"Dead serious, honey. And no need to rush it, it'll be at least 10 months until _Atlantis_ is completed _._

"They really go on with the old space shuttle naming theme," Erika observed.

"Yes."

"Well at least this time I get one with the name of a shuttle that survived," she answered her frustration clearly audible.

"Hey, hey," he said and she felt the soft pat on her hand. "You did what you could. The ship survived and nobody was killed. Shran was impressed by your battle maneuvers and it's not easy to impress an old warrior like him. You must have one helluva helmsman."

"Well, thank your own," she said and the smile returned to her face. "Most of the simulator trainings have been styled after a certain Travis Maywheather. Hartman, my chief helmsman, has a serious case of hero worship going on."

"He'd like to hear that."

"Did they give my ship to Fletcher?"

"Yes. First they thought she's too young, but being short of Captains they didn't have much choice."

"She's a good one. So what happened with your ship? Did Trip take over?"

"T'Pol did. Gardner wanted Trip, but he took exception to being taken away from his engines."

For the first time since the fateful battle Erika laughed. "Why am I not surprised? If it was legal he'd probably marry his engines."

"Don't think so; He's got a much more attractive option at hand."

=/\=

"God almighty," Trip wheezed, rolling off her. "Soval certainly didn't kid us."

"Vulcans do not... kid," she replied, equally out of breath. "The mind-meld enhances the intimacy of a coupling considerably."

"And I thought Malcolm has a knack for understatement," he answered with a chuckle. "10 billion humans don't have the slightest idea what they're missing."

"Ten billion and two," she corrected with an elevated eye-brow.

"Huh?"

"Ensigns McInally and Kusnezova are apparently not very skilled in the use of birth-control medication. Ensign Kusnezova is 1.3 months pregnant and Dr. Phlox is convinced that they are expecting twins."

"Oh dear," Trip answered and started laughing. "They send us out on a diplomatic mission and we get back with more crew than we left with. I'm not sure that's what Forrest had in mind, when he trashed the no-frats."

"Indeed. But it gives us another problem."

"Which one?"

"They have asked me to marry them and I am not sure if it is appropriate for a Vulcan to preside over a human wedding."

"Why shouldn't it be? You are the Captain and you have the right to marry them. All the proceedings are documented in the database. They wouldn't have asked you if they thought you'd be the wrong person to marry them."

She did not answer.

"The problem is something completely different, isn't it?" he asked, propping himself up to look her in the eyes. "You're worried that people don't accept you as the Captain."

"You told me yourself that Starfleet would have preferred you as the Captain."

"That's because they haven't seen the inside of a ship since their last visit to the museum. They don't know what the crew thinks. Hell you would've won this lot over just with your idea to give them the Captains mess as a dating place."

"It was the logical thing to do. We do not need it as we have a dining table in our quarters, while the crew has no privacy for romantic activities. Do you think that is the only reason for the crews acceptance?"

"No it isn't, you just don't realize the impact you have on the crew."

"What do you mean?"

"My gut tells tells me that you're doubting your people skills."

"This has nothing to do with with your intestines, we just completed a mind-meld."

"Ok, ok, it was worth a try. But I claim to have been distracted; we were making mad love at the time," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

"While I have several years of experience in interaction with humans; until my captaincy I had limited contact with anyone outside my own department and you do know how troubled my interaction was in our first year."

"And you learned. Now let's see... Remember the trouble with Chef after you allowed the crew to book the Captains mess for dates?"

She nodded.

"How did you solve the problem?"

"You do know that, you've seen the orders."

"Yes, you freed up a storage room and had my people install a second small galley, where people could make their own meals for dates, instead of pestering Chef."

"Hoshi told me that Humans consider it romantic to prepare a meal for a meeting with a potential mate."

"Ok, and what happened then?"

"Nothing; The problem was solved satisfactorily as I received no further grievances from Chef."

"You solved the problem and shelved it, like you do with your emotions."

"Of course," she answered and Trip could sense her growing defensiveness. "It would be illogical to do a performance review of myself."

"No need to be upset, darlin'. I didn't say it was wrong. You did, what every Vulcan would do. But that's why you missed the much bigger impact of your idea."

"Which was?"

"Well let's see. It began with the problem that Larson from hydroponics cannot cook, so she went to ask Kusnezova, who can. In exchange, Kusnezova's beau McInally got a big ol' massive bouquet 'o red roses for his next date with Kusnezova and you just told me the result that the dates of these two brought along."

"Indeed."

"Well, word got round and next time Larson didn't even need to ask someone, people were volunteering. Same with Rostov. The only thing that man can fry is a warp coil, so Taylor from armory cooked for him and Anna and as a thank you he cut her a Jesus statuette from genuine fried-injector-metal. See a pattern here darlin'?"

"The crew interaction expands, especially between different departments," she analyzed after a moment of contemplation.

"Right. But it doesn't end there. One day Mattes, one of the Germans in our team ganged up with chef and they did a theme-day, preparing all sorts of typical German cuisine. That was the day when Malcolm and I had this massive _Eisbein_ and you and Hoshi this swabian allgäu stuff. Next month it was Rolland from ops, who did an all-French day."

"This... stuff was called _Allgäuer Kässpatzen_ and was most agreeable."

"Yeah anyways. Next thing was that Mattes and Kriegel went ahead and drew-up, built and installed a small brewery installation in the second galley and started cookin' up genuine German beer."

"Which is why you and Malcolm still drink beer during our evening dinners," she realized. "I had begun to question my logic, because Malcolm's secret supply should have run out by now."

"Yep," he answered with a broad grin. "And that led to the final piece in your master stroke. With a steady supply of beer at hand, Mattes and Kriegel started to book the captain's mess each Wednesday night to play something called _Skat_ with Phlox."

"What is that?"

"Some obscure game with cards. Mattes once explained the rules to me, but I gave up after an hour; too much math and logical calculations in that for me."

"Maybe I would be interested in learning the rules."

"Darlin'," the said with a mock-exasperated eye-roll. "From what I've understood of those rules, you would be able to memorize every draw and calculate the others hands just from when they bailed out of the bidding. You'd win just about every game. Nobody would play more than two rounds with you."

"Unfortunate," she answered and Trip had to chuckle about seeing her 'brow of enormous giggle'.

"So, you see, one small problem solution and you practically doubled crew morale."

"But I did not notice any of those developments. Does that not mean I have been remiss in my duties?"

"Why should you? None of them affect the running of the ship, at least not in a negative way."

"I still do not understand why nobody made me aware of any of these new recreational activities."

"Would you take part in any of them?"

"No."

"See. And you consider praise illogical, so why should someone come up and say 'Great idea'."

"Indeed."

"Darlin', if something's wrong in the crew, you'll know it. Hoshi, Malcolm, Phlox, Mayumi and myself are the five officers, who report to you directly. We all know, what you want to know and what you think is redundant. You're doing perfectly fine."

"I'm gratified to hear that."

"Now, on to more important things," he whispered and slung his arm around her. "Wanna meld?"

In a display of utterly rotten timing, the com chirp denied him the answer.

"This is Commander Reed. Captain, Commander, please come to the bridge, we've located the Illyrians."

 


	11. The Warp 8 Engine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Shran drink some booze, Trip finds out he's even better than he thought and T'Pol punches a guest in the face...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken the swearing in ceremony from Transwarp's fantastic story "Command". You can find it on ff.net

Thy'lek Shran wandered along the corridor in Starfleet's headquarters, looking at the pictures that lined the wall. One particular portrait made him stop. It showed a human captain, sitting in the captain's chair in a proud and noble pose.

His thoughts went to the Wall of Heroes back on Andoria and he started to wonder whether one day his blood would be buried there or if he would end up here, as a picture on the Human Wall Of Heroes.

Shran's eyes fell on the plaque below the picture. Just days ago he had finished his education in the written and spoken human language and once again he admired the simplicity of it. Just 26 mostly simplistic symbols were sufficient to express every known word and words often consisted of just a few symbols. It had made the process of learning it almost laughingly simple, but in the process he also gained a new understanding of why so many other races were confused by the humans. On the outside they appeared to be nothing more than big children, with technology that other races had developed decades, sometimes centuries ago. Yet, they could be unbelievably efficient – their language was proof of it – and the speed of their progress was enough to strike fear into the stoic Vulcans. Yes, he told himself, it was the right choice to apply for service in the Human Starfleet. Everyone with half an ounce of tactical and political expertise had to acknowledge that the humans would one day become a major force in the Coalition of Planets that was about to be created.

_Jonathan Archer, Captain, NX-01 Enterprise_

He deciphered the text easily and his thoughts wandered back to the moment, when he and Archer had spoken about the namesakes of their ships. That was shortly before his short-sighted attempt to confront the Tellarites had resulted in Talas's death and the _Ushaan_ with Archer. A cold shiver ran down his spine, when he remembered that he had almost caused the death of the only real friend he ever had outside the Imperial Guard. Not only would he have been responsible for the death of a Human hero, he'd probably be now back on Andoria, jobless, useless and probably desperate enough to serve on a civilian freighter – the ultimate humiliation for a warrior like him.

=/\=

"Looking for a place to hang up your picture?" Jon asked, when he caught Shran in deep thought in front of his portrait.

"It would be fittingly placed alongside yours," the Andorian answered. "After all, it's safe to say that the two of us are responsible that our people are now becoming allies."

It didn't need the keen ear of Hoshi to notice the subtle differences in Shran's pronunciation to the scientifically immaculate rendition of a universal translator. Jon grinned. "I see you've been busy learning Standard."

"Of course. Would you want to rely on a UT in a battle?"

"Probably not. So, do you think you'll get the commission?" Archer asked with a smile.

"Well, there will probably be some reservations because of what I did to Soval, but I hope they'll see that I had no other choice at the time."

"I'm sure they will understand. I did some questionable things myself. War is a dirty business."

"Agreed."

=/\=

"Take a seat, Mr. Shran," Gardner said, pointing to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

"Thank you Admiral."

"I won't beat about the bush," Garner explained, while looking through the contents of Starfleet's final verdict on a PADD. "There were some serious reservations against your entry into Starfleet service. Many were disconcerted about your attempt to steal the Xindi prototype, but since you acted under orders from your superiors at the time, we couldn't hold that against you. Your interrogation of Ambassador Soval was a much trickier thing for some members of the Admiralty."

Gardner noticed Shran's accepting nod and continued his explanation.

"You were lucky though. Soval absolved you from all personal culpability and assured us that your course of action was understandable in the circumstances. You're lucky that _Enterprise_ wasn't yet too far away for a subspace transmission. That and the passionate lobbying of the crew of _Enterprise_ convinced us to accept your services as the first Andorian in Starfleet."

"Thank you, Admiral. You have my word that such incidents will not repeat."

"We'll need more than your word, Mr. Shran. Are you prepared to be sworn in?"

"Of course, when shall I report?"

"We'll do that immediately, unless you require a bigger ceremony," Gardner explained with a smile.

"No, we can do that right now, Admiral. The only person, who I really would like to be present is the pink-skin and he's already here."

"That's a habit you should break, by the way," Gardner explained sternly. "While Captain Archer might accept that moniker, most others will see it as a racial remark."

"Of course, Admiral. I apologize."

"Attention to orders," Gardner announced and watched both his guests stand at attention. "Mr. Shran, do Andorians follow a religion?"

"Some do, Admiral. I don't."

"Then we'll skip the 'god help me' part. Raise your right hand and speak after me."

After Shran had assumed the requested pose, Admiral Gardner began to recite the Starfleet oath, which Shran dutifully repeated in flawless Standard:

"Having received a commission as an officer in Starfleet, I do solemnly swear,"

"that I will support and defend the Constitution of United Earth against all enemies, foreign or domestic,"

"that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same;"

"that I will well and faithfully carry out my assigned duties and responsibilities;"

"that I will obey the orders of the Prime Minister, the Minister of Space, and the officers appointed over me, according to Starfleet regulations and the laws of United Earth. _"_

"At ease," Gardner ordered after a short pause that signaled the end of the oath.

Gardner pushed a button on his desk.

"Computer, start recording."

A short beep announced the machine's acknowledgment.

"On Wednesday, May 21st 2155, 0912 hours, Thy'lek Shran Of Andoria has sworn the Oath of Allegiance to Starfleet. The event has been witnessed by Captain Jonathan Archer and Admiral Samuel William Gardner. Computer, stop recording."

"Attention to Orders," Gardner announced and waited until both Archer and Shran were standing at attention again.

"The Prime Minister of United Earth has reposed special trust and confidence in the courage, fidelity and professional excellence of Thy'lek Shran of Andoria. In view of these qualities, and his demonstrated potential for leadership, he is, therefore, appointed to the rank of Captain, such appointment to take effect immediately. By order of the Minister of Space."

"At ease," he ordered and stuck out his hands to his blue-skinned guest. "Welcome to Starfleet, Captain Shran."

"It is an honor, Admiral."

Gardner watched in satisfaction how Archer added his heartfelt congratulations as well. Watching the friendship between the two bade well for the Coalition they were building – one as a soon-to-be Commodore, the other as the soon-to-be most experienced star ship Captain Starfleet ever had.

=/\=

"So, Admiral, may I ask, what your plans for me are?"

"Of course, that's part two of our meeting. Follow me, both of you."

Shran followed Gardner out of the door and a short distance down the corridor. " _Conference room 8"_ said the sign of the wall. Entering the room after Gardner, he saw several human officers, all clad in the standard blue uniform. They all had snapped to attention as soon as the admiral had entered.

"At ease, take a seat."

Looking to Archer for a hint of what to do, he took a free seat, when Archer motioned him to do so.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe you all know our two guests, Captain Jonathan Archer and as of 5 minutes ago, Captain Thy'lek Shran, the first Andorian in Starfleet."

Shran was startled slightly, when all humans started knocking on the table and not knowing the appropriate reply to such a display, he simply nodded towards the center of the oval table. He listened to Gardner's further introduction.

"May I introduce the others – Captain Julia Fletcher, Commander Roy Dunsel, Commander Jeremy Curtis, Commander Wyatcheslav Tcherkassov and Commander Ian O'Shea."

Shran watched as each human officer stood after his name was called, nodded shortly and took a seat again. He committed that to memory as the customary reaction to a formal introduction.

"You all know that, although the waters are calm at the moment, the Romulans will sooner or later come knocking on our door and it won't be a social call. We hope that the founding of the Coalition Of Planets might make them think twice, but for all we know they could also take it as a reason to attack. In reaction to this threat, Starfleet has decided to build up a fleet of 9 NX-class ships with improved armaments and defensive capabilities. You will all be part of that fleet."

"My latest information said 7 ships?" Archer asked.

"The number has risen to 9 last week. After long deliberations, the Xindi-Aquatics have offered to build two NX ships at Azati Prime. I think you know the place, Jon."

"Only too good."

Shran made a mental note to himself to ask the pink-skin, what that place was. It couldn't be a very agreeable one as he had rarely seen such a disgusted expression on Archer's face.

"May I ask what brought about such an offer?" Shran asked Gardner. "Do they think that two ships are a sufficient compensation for millions of dead humans?"

"Not at all. The Xindi are not formally part of the Coalition talks yet, but the primates, arboreals and aquatics have allied status with Earth. _Enterprise_ is currently on a diplomatic mission to New Xindus. The Aquatics have requested this mission and want to return the favor by building two ships."

"Since you said that we will all be part of that new fleet," Fletcher asked. "and since we're all either captains or commanders, do I take it that we'll be the commanding officers of the respective ships?"

"Yes and no. All of you except for Archer will get an own ship. The three others are absent from this meeting, so I shall tell you, what's what before we go on. You better record that, it's a long list."

Shran saw each of the humans take out a PADD. He directed a thankful nod to Archer when the human gave him a spare one that his friend had obviously brought, knowing that he wouldn't have one with him. Following Archers example, he pressed the 'record' button.

"Jonathan Archer will soon be promoted to Commodore and will take command of the fleet. The NX-01 _Enterprise_ is and will remain under the command of Captain T'Pol of Vulcan. NX-02 _Columbia_ is and will remain under the command of Captain Julia Fletcher. Commander Dunsel will assume command of NX-03 _Challenger_ and you Captain Shran will be CO of NX-04 _Discovery."_

Shran accepted the news with a nod. He looked very much forward to returning to space in command of a ship. He continued to listen to Gardner's further explanation.

"Both ships will start their test runs in August. Captain Erika Hernandez will command NX-05 _Atlantis,_ which will also be the fleet's flag ship, so Jonathan will be stationed there. Commander Curtis will take command of NX-06 _Endeavour._ NX-07 _Buran_ will be commanded by Malcolm Reed, currently First Officer on the _Enterprise._ Entry into service for NX-05, 06 and 07 is planned for February 2156. Commander Tcherkassov, you'll command NX-08 _Soyuz_ and Commander O'Shea the NX-09 _Intrepid._ These two will be the Xindi-built ships and will go into service one year from now. All of you, who are currently in the rank of Commander, will be promoted to Captain at the EIS time of your respective ships. Any questions?"

"Are these ships pure-bred warships?" Dunsel asked.

"No. They will be built as multi-purpose ships, usable for exploration and warfare alike due to improved armaments and defensive capabilities. We have received military aid by Vulcan in the form of engineering crews and the specs of their defensive shielding technology. A prototype installation is currently being tested by _Enterprise_ and _Columbia._ Andoria has agreed to assist with the development of a Mark IV torpedo technology and _Enterprise_ will bring back some sensor improvements courtesy of the Xindi-Arboreals. That should turn the NX ships into formidable battleships and the last batch of reports from _Enterprise_ indicate that Tucker's latest improvements have gotten us very close to warp 6 and knowing the man, he'll probably crack the warp 6 barrier before the last NX ship is completed."

"What about Special Operating Procedures?" Tcherkassov asked and Shran noticed that the accent of the man was very different from the rest of the humans. After mentally comparing it to the accents of some of the human instructors in his language training, he identified it as the harsh sounding accent of people, who came from a region called 'Russia', which was said to have regions with a climate similar to Andoria for large part of the Earth year.

"Since all but two ships are still being built, you will all spend the next 2 months working out the SOP's and fleet maneuvers yourself. Captain Archer will lead this project and I hope we can profit from Captain Shran's extensive warfare experience in the Imperial Guard."

"I will speak to the Guard representatives in the Andorian Embassy to find out which information I'm allowed to disclose.

"Thank you Captain. If there are no more questions, you are dismissed, but I want Jon and Shran to stay for a moment."

Shran nodded and waited until the other officers had left the room.

=/\=

"Captain, I've spoken to Starfleet HR," Gardner began. "They think it would be a bit... awkward to put you in a standard issue blue uniform, so they've suggested to use the dark color of Andorian uniforms and standard Starfleet design for yours. If that is ok for you?"

"Of course, Admiral. It will show my allegiance to Starfleet, while still honoring my past service in the Imperial Guard. I find that an agreeable compromise."

"Good. That brings me to the main thing. I need you both for a special operation on Vulcan. The V'Shar has tracked down former administrator V'Las in his hideout - the caves near the T'Kareth sanctuary. They want us to apprehend him. They made it clear that his demise is not considered a disagreeable result, should lethal force be necessary."

Gardner waited for them to digest this little bit of information.

"What happened to 'this is a Vulcan matter?'" Jon asked in surprise.

The Admiral grinned at Jon's predictable reaction. "Well it still is, but it's also a highly political matter. Minister T'Pau is still preaching the Kir'Shara day and night and she's worried that promoting Surakian pacifism while sending out an assault commando to kill her predecessor might look a wee bit hypocritical."

"So she wants plausible deniability."

"Right Jon. The official story will be, that you briefed a high ranking Starfleet delegation on your time during the Vulcan crisis. During an on-site briefing, you were attacked and acted in self-defense. The fact that the delegation consists of an Andorian and a detachment of trained soldiers will be conveniently omitted."

"Well, some things didn't change. They're still expert liars."

"Minister T'Pau prefers to see it as a 'political necessity'," Gardner answered with a smirk to Shran's sarcastic remark, before continuing the briefing.

"According to the V'Shar, V'Las and up to 20 followers are hiding in those caves. You, Jon, are the only human who's ever been in these caves and you, Shran, have the most experience in fighting Vulcans, that's why I want you both on this mission."

"Didn't you just order us to start working on fleet SOP's?"

"Yes, Jon; The others will start without you and Shran. You'll take temporary Command of _Columbia,_ while Fletcher will take your place as the project leader for the time being. This mission is meant to take no longer than 2 weeks, so in your absence, Fletcher and the others can work out the mundane routine details."

"Understood"

"You'll take _Columbia_ to Vulcan, where you'll contact the High Council. The Vulcan liaison is Minister Kuvak, who will provide all necessary details and authorizations. You ship out at 0600 Friday morning. Until that you've got time to prepare."

"Aye, Sir."

=/\=

Trip and T'Pol entered the bridge and Malcolm got out of the big chair.

"We've located the Illyrian ship. We'll be in communication range in 2 hours."

T'Pol acknowledged the report with a short nod.

"Commander Tucker, assemble an engineering team and brief them on the necessary modifications to the warp coil to make it suitable for the Illyrian ship. It is logical to assume that they wish the installation to proceed with all haste, once we have come to an agreement."

"Aye, Ma'am."

"I suggest that we prepare for a fire fight," Malcolm reported. "I doubt that they will be very happy to see us again."

T'Pol shook her head, unaware that she had picked up that habit. "I do not think so. Their weapons are not powerful enough and unlike the last encounter, _Enterprise_ is in peak condition. I thought that you would look forward to testing the new shielding technology, Commander."

She didn't notice Hoshi's smug grin in Malcolm's direction.

=/\=

"Hail them again."

"They are not responding," Hoshi reported and tried the next attempt to raise the Illyrians.

"They're charging weapons," came Malcolm's report.

"Raise shields, do **not** return fire."

Hoshi sent a questioning glance to Malcolm, hoping to see any indication of what he thought about it. The tiny smile, he returned raised her spirits enough to stay calm, while the ship started rocking, when Illyrian fire impacted the new shields again and again.

"Shields holding steady at 80%."

"You'd think they'd get the message by now," Travis said and Hoshi had to smile about the smug undercurrent in his statement. A noise in her earpiece drew her attention back to the task at hand.

"Captain, it's the Illyrians. They say, they're ready to surrender."

=/\=

"Didn't you already take enough from us?"

T'Pol looked at the weary looking figure on the view screen impassionately.

"We did not come to take anything. We came to return, what desperation forced us to take," she explained calmly.

"Why should we believe pirates and where is the man, who ordered the crippling of my ship?"

"Captain Archer is no longer the captain of this vessel, he has been assigned new responsibilities. If you allow us to invite you to visit our ship, I am sure we can work out an agreement that is satisfactory for both sides."

"Why should we do that? How can we know that you won't take us hostage?"

"I propose an exchange," T'Pol returned. "We send over our shuttle pod, carrying an engineering team and a warp coil. They will remain in your custody by way of a pledge for your security."

She waited patiently, while the view screen showed two Illyrians joining their Captain in discussion. Since the Illyrians had severed the audio connection, there was no way of knowing, what they spoke about.

"Audio coming back," Hoshi reported.

"We agree," the Illyrian Captain said. "But I insist that two of my crew be allowed to accompany me as my guards."

"Agreed," T'Pol answered with a nod. "Stand by for docking."

=/\=

Shran folded the specially made khaki colored uniforms that he had been issued for this mission and put them in a duffel back, when the door chime announced a visitor.

"Come."

The door opened and revealed Jonathan Archer, holding a bottle with a brown liquid. "You're not exactly traveling lightly."

"I never leave anything to chance, when going on a battle mission," Shran answered seriously. "That's how I got to live long enough to have my own Starfleet quarters."

"And cozily cold, too," Archer said and Shran saw him shiver slightly.

"You may raise the temperature. I'm used to withstand warm climates."

"Not necessary, Shran. I brought something to warm me up."

Shran mustered the bottle that Archer was showing him.

"Bourbon Whiskey."

"It's not as strong as your ale, but still packs quite punch."

"Let me finish packing, then we can share a glass or two," Shran said with a knowing smile. Since their history had been a constant ebb and flow of personal debts, he had expected that the pink-skin at one point would return the favor of many shared ales.

"Whats that?"

Shran turned around to see a bemusedly smiling Archer holding a sand colored balaclava by the antennae.

"Well, blue skin is not a very helpful camouflage on Vulcan, is it."

"But antennae? Couldn't you just shove them back? Their movements could give you away."

"Did you already forget, what happened to me when you severed my antenna in the _Ushaan_? You pink-skins have your vestibular system to keep your balance, we have our antennae. If they can't move freely, we get sick or fall over constantly."

Shran saw Archer slap his forehead.

"You know, Shran, for all the time we've known each other, I know damn little about Andorians."

Shran put up a hand. "Don't worry, there will be enough time to educate you."

"By the way, you should get used to calling me Jon. I don't mind the 'pink-skin', but Gardner wasn't kidding. Other people will take offense."

"Why? The Aenar call us blue-skins, we call them white-skins. Why should that be an offense?" Shran asked, his antennae wiggling in confusion.

"Lets just say, we have a rather unflattering history of discriminating people because of their skin color. It's been gone for over 200 years now, but some people are still easily offended."

"The brown-skins," Shran guessed, based on the fact that he had seen very few of those so far.

"Exactly. Three hundred years ago, Travis wouldn't have been my helmsman, but more likely my slave."

"No wonder the Vulcans are scared of you," Shran said with a smirk. "If you overcome something like that in only 2 centuries, they must be terrified, where you'll be in another two."

"Holy shit, Shran, what's that? They look like grenades!"

Shran turned around again and saw Archer staring wide-eyed at one of his armament belts.

"They are stun-grenades, a courtesy of the Imperial Guard detachment of the Andorian Embassy."

"And they'll knock out a Vulcan? These guys are quite sturdy."

"You're quite absent-minded today, Jon," Shran said with a slight worry, while trying out the new moniker. "They are Andorian. They are specifically designed to knock out a Vulcan."

"You're right, I'm an idiot."

Shran waited, knowing that more was to come.

"Right, I'm a bit distracted. I'm not comfortable with leaving Erika behind."

Shran took two ale-glasses from the shelve and indicated the bottle of whiskey. "Maybe we should sit down and you tell me, how she is."

=/\=

"I'm Commander Charles Tucker III, Chief Engineer of _Enterprise._ We've come to install a new warp coil and Lieutenant Maywheather will take you and your guards to our ship _."_

"I know, who you are."

Trip noticed the hostility in the Illyrians voice. He could hardly fault him. He had just been limping home for over a year at sublight and without a coil they were only one third of the way so far. He decided to play it cool and answered with a silent nod, waiting for the Illyrian to continue.

"You are under constant guard. If what your Captain said is true and you brought a warp coil, you are allowed to install it under supervision, but be warned, at the first sign of ulterior motives you will be taken to a holding cell."

"We have brought a new coil," Trip assured him and opened the container for inspection. "You have my word that we have no other intention than returning, what we were forced to take."

"Take us to your ship," the Illyrian demanded and Trip gave Travis a nod of approval.

When one of the guards entered the shuttle, Trip noticed that the Illyrian slipped something into the pocket of his uniform.

=/\=

_Understood, please do your work._

T'Pol stood near the airlock, eyes closed and sent the strong mental nudge to her mate. Seconds earlier 3 pictures had flashed repeatedly in her mind – a knife, a uniform and a bloodied knife.

The typical clunk of a docking shuttlepod could be heard and T'Pol waited for the airlock to open.

"Captain, welcome aboard _Enterprise."_

She waited for the Illyrian to return the greeting, but nothing of the sort came.

"You proposed negotiating an agreement. If your claims to return the warp coil are true, why do we need an agreement?"

"I shall explain that, please follow me to the conference room."

Arriving there T'Pol indicated her guest to take a seat, while she seated herself on the opposite side. She noticed that one of the Illyrian guards took position on her side of the table.

"Be informed that your engineering crew is under supervision and I allowed them to install the device. Should you decide to abandon them and take me hostage, they will be killed."

T'Pol fought down a pang of panic at the thought of Trip being killed, but made sure to show no sign of it.

"Be assured that none of this is our intention. I would never abandon our engineering crew. One of them is my future husband."

She noticed the stunned expression on the ridged face of her guest.

"How can that be. You are different from the others."

"That is correct," T'Pol answered and handed him a PADD that she had been carrying the whole time. "This database contains all pertinent information about this ship, its crew and the events since the raid of your vessel. Earth and especially the crew of this ship is experiencing deep regret over the injustice that we were forced to bring to you. It is our hope that by returning you a new warp coil and providing these information, one day your people might be able to forgive what has happened."

She observed the Illyrians face for any sign of emotional reaction, when he took the PADD.

"It's in Illyrian."

"Yes, our communications officer took the liberty to translate it to your language. We hope the quality of the translation is satisfactory."

The room fell silent as T'Pol continued to observe her guest absorb the presented data. Her keen hearing picked up a rustling sound from behind. Remembering Trip's warning and the memorized position of the Illyrian guard, she turned around and swung a right hook at the last known position of him.

With a dull thud the guard was thrown against the bulkhead, slumping into an unconscious pile, while a metallic object fell to the ground nearby. The Illyrian captain and the other guard immediately targeted her with their phasers and T'Pol raised both hands.

"I do not intend to strike at you, but if you would please inspect the weapon that is located 1.2 meters from my position, you will notice that your crew member tried to attack me."

"Wait!" the Illyrian Captain called after the second guard, who had moved to retrieve the object. T'Pol, hands still raised, watched the Illyrian give his guard a thorough pat-down. When he held up a metallic object that he had removed from the guards pocket, she nodded as an answer to the unspoken question, whether a similar object was, what she had referred to.

She swiftly caught the phaser that the Illyrian had taken from his guard and thrown to her.

"Please apprehend them," he demanded.

"As you wish," T'Pol answered and walked over to the com-panel, while the Captain kept his, now former, guard at gunpoint.

"T'Pol to Commander Reed."

"Reed."

"Please send a 4 man security detail to the conference room."

=/\=

"I suppose, now I have to ask forgiveness," the Illyrian Captain said, after the security detail had hoisted the two attackers away.

"There is no need for that," T'Pol waved off is concerns. "Your crew has suffered a great injustice and anger is a strong emotion. It was to be expected that some where not prepared to forgo revenge."

"Please accept my assurance that I was not aware of their intentions."

"I do."

Their conversation was cut short by the com beep.

"Bridge to Captain T'Pol."

"T'Pol here."

"Commander Tucker reports that the installation of the warp coil has been successful. The Illyrian ship is now warp capable again."

"Thank you, Commander. Please instruct your security detail to bring the two apprehended Illyrians and meet us at airlock 7."

"Aye, ma'am."

"As you have heard, you now have back, what was unlawfully taken," she said. "Please bring these information to the attention of your government and we hope you will have a pleasant journey home, now that the time frame has changed in your favor."

"I thank you. I'm afraid many of my crew will need a long time to get past their resentment, but if it is true that it was your ship that destroyed the devices, which caused these spatial anomalies, our sacrifice was at least not in vain."

"Once you find the time to study the data in detail, you will notice that it was the acquisition of your warp coil, which enabled us to fulfill our mission. Without you, Earth and most likely Illyria would no longer exist by now. Please follow me. I am sure your crew is eager to continue their journey."

=/\=

"Permission to come aboard?" Archer asked, stepping out of the airlock.

"Permission granted," the XO answered and shook Jon's offered hand.

"Commander, you'll stay on the bridge," Archer instructed. "Lay in a direct course for Vulcan at maximum warp. Inform Major Talcin to report to the conference room in 30 minutes."

"Aye, Sir."

"And you, Shran," Archer turned towards his companion. "Better bring those grenades to the armory for storage. If those things can knock out a Vulcan, I'm not keen to find out what happens, when one of them goes bang on a ship full of humans. Commander Barring will show you the way."

"Agreed," Shran answered and Jon left towards the Captains quarters.

=/\=

_May 30th 2155, The Delphic Expanse_

Trip looked questioningly at Malcolm.

"What?" Malcolm asked.

"Where's Hoshi? She's hardly the most punctual human in the world, probably not even in this part of the ship, but she's never late for our dinners."

"She got called to the bridge. Her gamma shift ensign couldn't make sense of a transmission half an hour ago. She'll be here any minute."

"Ah," Trip said and looked expectantly at T'Pol, but the only reaction he got was an inquisitively raised eyebrow.

"I'm waiting for the 'why wasn't I informed?'," Trip explained.

"I was informed."

"Guess then it'll be me who asks that," he returned.

"As you may wish to remember – you only just arrived here yourself. I found it unnecessary to disturb you with such information, when you were too absorbed in your latest test run."

"Absorbed? Try obsessed," Malcolm quipped.

"Hey," Trip said defensively, but with a big grin. "I squeezed 'er to 5.87. Mark my word. When Jon and Erika go out on _Atlantis_ for the first time, they'll be screaming out of the system at warp 6."

"No doubt about that," Hoshi said, strolling into the cabin. "Sorry for being late, but Ferris is still learning the ropes. He's one of the newbies, we took aboard."

"What kind of transmission was it?" T'Pol asked.

"A communique from the Supreme Council of Illyria. Their ship has made it home and after reviewing our data, they won't open a diplomatic case."

"That is gratifying to hear," T'Pol said and Trip went to call the Steward with the dishes.

=/\=

T'Pol looked at the dish before her.

"What is it, darlin'?"

"This dish looks somewhat … disorganized," she said, stirring it with her spoon slightly.

"If you mean to say it looks as if Kusnezova just threw in the pot whatever she could find – well – that's exactly what it is."

"Kuznezova?" Malcolm asked.

"It's her turn this week – Russian theme day."

"I would have pegged it for ravioli after a tragic kitchen accident," Malcolm said pointing at the blood red soup in front of him.

"Don't let her hear that, or she'll have your hide." Trip chuckled. "Pregnant women are moody enough as they are."

"You seem to know what it is," Malcolm replied with smirk. "Care to enlighten us?"

"It's called _borshtch_. Main ingredients are beet-root and cabbage, hence the red color and the dumplings you took for ravioli are called _uszky_ – little ears – and they're filled with mushrooms."

"Sounds like a nice combination," Hoshi said with a smile. "Bon apetit."

=/\=

T'Pol sent Trip and Malcolm a stern look, when Trip refilled their glasses from the small keg that his two Germans had delivered the day before.

"Don't worry, darlin' 'tis a light Lager, nothing like the stuff they zonked us with last week."

She noticed with satisfaction that he had gotten the hint even without any telepathic warnings.

"Don't remind me," Malcolm groaned. "What did they call it? _Bock_?"

"Yeah, packed quite a wallop, didn't it."

"If by 'wallop' you mean your incessant snoring throughout the night, then it is an apt description," T'Pol complained.

The com chirp interrupted them.

"Senior officers to the bridge. We're being approached by a ship. It's Xindi."

=/\=

"We're being hailed," Ensign Ferris reported, as soon as the four officers filed out of the turbo lift.

Hoshi motioned him to vacate the seat and took over.

"On screen," T'Pol ordered.

The screen revealed the faces of an arboreal and a primate and T'Pol immediately recognized the faces of the two Xindi, who had seen them off after the destruction of the spheres.

" _Enterprise_ , we are pleased to see you again."

"The pleasure is ours," T'Pol returned with a polite nod.

"We were not expecting you so early, but considering your gigantic advancements in speed, it does not come as a surprise."

T'Pol noticed that Trip had taken position on her side. She heard him address the Xindi.

"Well thank you, we made a few improvements, but I wouldn't call 5.8 gigantic."

They both noticed the confused looks the Xindi were exchanging. The arboreal answered.

" _Enterprise,_ the long range scans of our outer defence perimeter registered your warp signature near the Skagaran system yesterday. You are here now, which means you must have traveled in excess of warp factor 8."

Trip and T'Pol faced each other and she noticed the shocked look in his face.

"You know, what that means, darlin', don't you?"

T'Pol was too caught up in her own confusion to protest the unseemly intimate address.

 


	12. Ends, Odds and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip tells a tall tale, Shran jumps out of a perfectly servicable shuttle in mid flight and two Vulcans have bad teeth...

"Please come aboard our ship," T'Pol said, once the initial shock had subsided. She registered the accepting nods of Jannar and Depac and the connection was severed.

Pushing a com button on Hoshi's console, she ordered: "Bridge to sickbay. Subcommander Soval, join us at airlock 7."

She left for the turbo-lift and without needing any order to do so Commander Tucker followed her.

“Guess, I have the bridge again,” Malcolm quipped when they were gone.

When she arrived at the airlock, walking side by side with her mate, Soval was already there and he seemed to know already that something important had happened.

"You both appear to be troubled."

"We might have found them," T'Pol answered cryptically, knowing that Soval would figure out the rest after so many mind-melds during their rehabilitation.

=/\=

"You say that there is another ship with exactly the same signature?" Jannar, the council member of the arboreals, asked.

"If our suspicion is correct and you check their plasma decay rate, you'll notice a difference," Trip explained. "After all that ship is more than a century old."

Seeing the bewildered looks on the faces of the Xindi, Trip knew that he probably made as much sense to them as a hopeless drunk.

"Is this again a matter of time travel?" Depac asked.

"In a way; it happened when we came to the subspace corridor Degra had told us about. The Kovalaans took exception to our presence," Trip began and recalled the whole incident that led to the existence of the second Enterprise, the one that might still be out there.

=/\=

Archer and Shran stood on the bridge of _Columbia_ , both clad in sand-colored uniforms

"Ensign Hartman, you're driving," Archer ordered. "Barring, you have the con."

Archer left the bridge, with Shran and Hartman in tow.

"Are the MACO's ready?" he asked, once they were inside the turbo-lift.

"They are already waiting in the launch bay," Shran answered with a nod. "Luggage and weapons have already been stored. We can complete the camouflage on the way down."

"That's good. Since you're the most experienced, you'll command the operation. Major Talcin has agreed to it."

"Agreed," Shran accepted as they entered the launch bay.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let's go through some of the things that await us down there," Archer explained, holding up a pocket-sized leather bag. "Each one of you grabs one of those bags. They contain small metal pellets. If you see a glittering effect on a wall down there – that's a gallicite deposit. Take a pellet and throw it at the wall to discharge the static electricity or you might end up dead."

"Won't that give away our position?" Major Talcin inquired.

"That's why we're using small pellets. They make it look like a natural discharge on a small insect or desert bat. What do we have for weapons, Major?"

"We've decided to use crossbows. That will give us the advantage of having ranged weapons against their _lirpas_. My men also carry _hira-shuriken_."

"What's that?" Shran asked.

"Throwing stars," Talcin answered and handed both Archer and Shran such an object.

"You humans have cruel weapons," Shran remarked after inspecting the small 4-bladed metal projectile.

"Says the man, who's carrying an _Ushaan-tor,"_ Archer said with a sarcastic chuckle. "What about melée combat, Major?"

"We've left that to each soldiers preference. Some carry _nunchaku_ others have daggers or batons."

"Ok," Archer addressed the soldiers. "As you all know, there's no modern technology that works down there. You probably got that already from the somewhat quaint selection of weaponry. That means we have no scanners whatsoever and have to rely on the good ol' Mark-II Eyeball. Make sure you all wear your sunglasses; the glare is pretty bad down there. Captain Shran will command this mission. Judging by the sophistication of his camouflage, he'll be the guy you **won't** see down there."

Amusement spread among the soldiers.

"So let’s go through the quick check list. We'll be the first to do a military parachute drop in decades and we're definitely the first to do it on Vulcan. Due to the thinner atmosphere and higher gravity the 'chutes have to be huge. That's why we'll jump in intervals of 30 seconds, while the shuttle circles 5.000 meters above the ground. That's as low as we can go without hitting the natural dampening field."

John paced slowly, while delivering his speech. This operation would be the most unusual in recent history, considering that it used methods and weapons, which were out of style since the last century, or – as the Vulcans would call it – last week.

"Due to the long interval between jumps, we'll land spread out over a large area. We'll meet one hour after the drop at the given coordinates. The parachutes are to be simply abandoned. The next sand fire will take care of them. Any questions?"

None came.

"Let's get the show on the road," Archer ordered and indicated them to board the shuttle.

=/\=

"Centurio Tavrus, the Praetor will now see you."

With long steps, Centurio Tavrus, who once was Major Talok, walked into the huge chamber of Romulus' most powerful leader.

" _Jolan tru_ , Praetor, I come to serve."

" _Jolan tru,_ Centurio. I see you still haven't shaken some of the habits you took on during your time on Vulcan."

Hanging his head in shame, Tavrus asked for forgiveness.

"Do not be concerned Centurio. You served us well on Vulcan for a long time. Such little things won't take away from your excellence. Tell me, what is the latest information on this 'Coalition'."

"They are still squabbling over minute details. I think they will go nowhere for months. The humans, however, keep everything together. If we eliminate them, this whole idea will collapse."

"Have you made progress on how to eradicate them without ground troops?"

"We have a lead. A century ago the humans used weapons based on a nuclear chain reaction. They could kill by radiation, even after the blast. But use of those is dangerous to us as well. If I may humbly inquire; why is it so important to avoid the use of ground troops? Ours are the best in the quadrant."

"I do not doubt the excellence and bravery of our troops, Centurio. We must avoid that any of the humans or their allies ever sees one of us. If they learn about our ancestry, they will know that any weapon against a Vulcan is also a weapon against us. The Andorians have these in abundance and the blue scum have shown a predilection for helping these humans, even without a formal alliance."

"I will see to it that we develop those nuclear weapons in all haste."

=/\=

Trip's mind was in turmoil. There they were, preparing for a tricky diplomatic mission, but all he could think of was the ship that – maybe – was still out there.

"We must concentrate on the diplomatic mission," Depac explained. "But we offer to dispatch ships to find out if the signals are indeed coming from the second _Enterprise._ "

"We'd be very grateful," Trip answered, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Last time we saw them, they were in bad shape and if that signal was all over the sector as you say, it looks as if they are running from someone – most likely the Kovalaans. Maybe you could convince the aquatics to send a ship as well, you know, to give them a lift, like they did with us. About the diplomatic side; Maybe Soval can help."

"Was he not introduced as a medic on this ship?" Jannar asked.

"I am currently serving as a medic," Soval explained. "It was necessary to aid the recuperation of two crew members. However, before that I've been a diplomat for 50 years and I will return to that service, once this mission is finished."

"I remember," Depac replied. "The data that Captain Archer gave us about Earth spoke of an Ambassador Soval."

"Indeed."

"We would be honored to have an established diplomat available," Jannar answered in the slow manner of the arboreals. "It will make dealings with the aquatics a lot easier."

"Indeed," Depac agreed.

=/\=

"You sound as if you don't even try to apprehend him alive," Shran noted, while he covered the area around his eyes with the ochre-colored paste. Archer’s latest instructions, given while everyone in the shuttle put the finishing touches on their outfit, sounded suspiciously like 'kill anyone with a _lirpa_ on sight'.

"If the Vulcans would have wanted him alive or for interrogation, they would have gotten him themselves. They didn't put it in so many words, but his death is exactly the outcome they expect."

"Strange," Shran noticed. "Every Andorian they ever captured was interrogated thoroughly – very thoroughly. How come they don't want to interrogate the man, who corrupted their whole government?"

"That's because they already have," Archer explained. "They had him stunned, when T'Pau and I brought in the Kir'Shara. Trust me, T'Pau or any of the other melders has picked his brain, while he was out. A mind-meld is much more efficient than any old-fashioned torture."

"Is that, why they let him go?" Shran asked, remembering that he had been very confused when reports reached the Imperial Guard that the new Vulcan government had let a high profile traitor go free.

"Think so," Archer said with a nod. "I think they had hoped to find more of his co-conspirators, but when that led to nothing, they decided to get rid of him."

"I'm surprised that Starfleet agreed to this. You humans did not strike me as a race that would kill in cold blood. You've made peace between my people and the Vulcans more than once and now you go on what is technically an assassination mission?"

"It’s pure opportunism on Starfleet's part. At some point we want something from the Vulcans and if they are reluctant to agree, we just need to mention this mission and they will see the logic in agreeing to our request in a damn hurry."

"Sneaky," Shran remarked. Obviously in times of war or when such was looming, the Humans could be just as ruthless as an Andorian warrior.

"War's a dirty business," Archer continued. "I've had Surak in my head long enough to know that, what we're about to do may clash with our own values, but by Vulcan standards I'm just following tradition. I've learned the hard way in the Expanse that sometimes you must shove your own moral values aside to get the job done."

"It is Vulcan tradition to assassinate people?"

"In a way. When you got the cultural briefing in the Embassy after you applied for Starfleet service. Did they tell you about medieval laws? About people being outlawed?"

Shran nodded, remembering the texts about people that were sent away from their homes and everyone had the right to kill them.

"In contrast to humanity, Vulcan still has the death penalty," Archer explained grimly. "Treason, murder, adultery and few select other offences still carry the death-sentence. By Vulcan tradition everyone affected has the right to execute the offender. He murdered one of my best friends and 29 other humans, he nearly destroyed my ship and tried to kill me and my first officer. I think I'm damn well affected."

Shran looked at the face of his human friend – there he was again, the grim, angry human, he'd met in the Expanse. The Romulans had no idea what they were up against, should they ever plan to attack.

"Captain Shran," the pilot announced. "We've reached the deployment zone."

"Ok, ready for deployment, meet me at the given coordinates in exactly 60 minutes from now...mark!" Shran ordered and shoved the balaclava over his head.

"Let's execute some tradition, Jon," he said and opened the hatch.

=/\=

Soval looked at the stack of PADDs before him. These mediation talks would challenge all of his diplomatic skills. The 5 Xindi subspecies where as different as if they came from 5 different worlds. The arboreals and primates seemed to have a certain common ground, but then there were the unassertive aquatics, the rash insectoids, not to mention the unpredictable and volatile reptilians.

"Have you come to any conclusions," Depac asked.

"Your political situation is... difficult," Soval started carefully. "With the aquatics' difficulties to come to decisions and the insectoids' intransigence, I do not believe that these negotiations can be completed in the given time-frame."

"What do you propose?" Jannar asked.

"I shall convene with my superiors to see if it is possible for me to stay on your world until these negotiations have been completed. Since I believe this process to span months, it would be illogical to keep _Enterprise_ here for such a long time, especially since Earth might be on the verge of another war."

"Have they been attacked again?"

"Not yet," Soval answered to Depac's worried question. "As you know, four worlds – Earth, Vulcan, Tellar and Andoria – are building an interplanetary coalition. An aggressive and expansionist race, which is called Romulans by Earth, sees their plans of conquering our worlds in danger by the emergence of such a strong adversary. The danger of a pre-emptive attack is substantial."

"It is unfortunate to hear that you face peril again, so shortly after your and our worlds have faced annihilation at the hands of the Guardians. Maybe one day we might render assistance, but first we have to bring peace to our own world."

"I understand that, Councilor," Soval added and started walking the room slowly. "I propose that we gain the aquatics' approval for my mediation. Once that has been achieved, we may request my stay on New Xindus from my government and _Enterprise_ can return to their home world to attend to more urgent matters."

"Agreed."

=/\=

Shran looked up to check the big piece of fabric that stood between his survival and the fall to his death. Only the pink-skins would come up with an idea to fall safely from great heights, but then again, they didn't have levitation boots. What was more interesting, however, it did not only work and was enjoyable in a strange way, they had had this technology since before they could take to the air.

Impacting with the ground, he started running to dissipate the remaining energy before coming to a stop. He removed the backpack that had contained the folded parachute and started to check his outfit. The grenade belt was in place, the bolt-throwing device, which the humans called crossbow was hanging over his shoulder and his faithful old companion, his _Ushaan-tor_ was sharpened and fastened to his belt.

It didn't take long before the first humans arrived, including Archer, who had jumped third after Shran himself. 50 minutes after his own arrival, the last soldier arrived and the commando was good to go.

"The opening is 500 metres north from here," Archer reported. "It's hidden by a holographic projection, but I don't know if it survived the bombardment."

"Lead the way, Captain," Shran answered and followed the lead of the human.

=/\=

Archer ducked his head back behind the hill near the opening of the underground caves. He held up two fingers to signal the presence of two outside guards. He saw Major Talcin indicate two soldiers to crawl forward.

A few second later he saw them each throw a throwing-star and the two guards collapsed into a heap with not so much as a sigh.

Archer crested the hill and motioned the others to follow. With his two index fingers he indicated the approximate dimensions of the opening and the commando split up to crouch against the wall on either side.

Archer made a chucking movement towards Shran and the Andorian took one of the grenades off his belt and threw it through the invisible opening. A dull thud, followed by two more, signaled that at least two more guards had been neutralized.

Archer saw Shran hold up 4 fingers, followed by an indication towards the opening. Four soldiers with leveled crossbows jumped through the opening. Seconds later he noticed an arm coming through the holographic projection, indicating them to follow in.

Taking a surveying look around the cave, where he and T'Pol once were apprehended by the Syrranites, he saw two Vulcans being tied and gagged by soldiers.  Further down was a third, who was pierced by a bolt. One of the soldiers made a running-movement with his index and middle fingers and indicated a cave entry to convey that he had seen Vulcans fleeing in that direction.

Once the two unconscious guards were bound and gagged, Archer followed Shran’s lead into the cave, with the rest of the soldiers in tow. After an excruciating romp of almost half an hour through the caves, he caught a glimpse of two dark clad-figures disappearing left and right behind an opening. Shran help up a hand to indicate all to stop and Jon surmised that Shran had come to the same conclusion – this was an ideal ambush place. Before he could think any further, he heard a whooshing noise, as a throwing star passed not very high overhead and impacted with a gallicite deposit a few seconds later. A massive lightning-filled discharge ensued and the two dark-clad figures staggered into view. Moments later Jon saw them dropping to the ground.

He looked back and saw Major Talcin pump his fist in triumph.

=/\=

"Any word?" Trip asked as T'Pol entered their quarters.

"The Xindi have deployed two primate and one aquarian ship. They have picked up a signal approaching the Icaaran system."

"I still can't believe that they might be alive," Trip said and his voice was giving away his inner turmoil loud and clear.

"It was a possibility that they would survive," T'Pol answered. "I am however unsure about how to deal with meeting an older self again. It was a most confusing experience."

"Dunno," Trip muttered, gently embracing her. "I've got a gut feeling that the other you didn't make it."

"What brings you to that conclusion," she asked and Trip noticed the sadness in her brown eyes.

"Look, I've talked to Jon a few times about his meetings with Daniels and how the guy always babbled about corrupting the time line. If you existed twice, that would clearly corrupt it, so somehow I have a gut feeling that Daniels would have just zapped them out of existence if you would have survived. Maybe, if she died, that's the only reason they still exist at all."

"We shall find out," she said and Trip watched her disappear into the bath room.

=/\=

Talcin made a cutting movement across his throat to indicate that the two figures were dead. Seeing Shran's sign to go on, he followed, right behind Archer after relaying the indication to the soldiers behind him.

After a few more minutes of marching, a cry of pain from behind startled him and he saw a Vulcan striking Corporal Moore with a _lirpa_. Immediately he noticed the loud whirring noise of a _nunchaku_ in action as Corporal Tsangtao pounded the attacker with the ancient Chinese weapon. After a devastating blow to the Vulcan's head, the attacker dropped with a crushed skull.

Watching Tsangtao check the fallen comrade, he noticed his grim head-shaking. All help for Moore would come too late.

"Leave him," Talcin ordered with a grim face. "We'll get him, when the job's done."

Coming up to a larger cave opening, Talcin's keen ear noticed some faint rustling noises. He tapped Shrans shoulder and showed him all 10 fingers, twice. Of course he didn't know, how many Vulcans would await them, but it was clear that the fugitives awaited them for a final battle.

Seeing Shran preparing his crossbow, he indicated his men lock and load. Every human – and Andorian - knew that he would have exactly one shot, then it would be melee, due to the long reloading time of the historic weapons.

Following Shran's attacking sign he stormed into the large opening and when he saw the approaching Vulcans – his rough estimate was a dozen – he fired his weapon at one that came directly towards him. His bolt pierced the attacker's throat and the Vulcan collapsed.

Seeing some bolts of other soldiers miss, he knew that hand-to-hand combat was coming. He drew his _Kilij,_ the saber-like weapon of his Janissary ancestors and rammed it into the abdomen of an approaching Vulcan.

=/\=

After firing his bolt, which had pierced the chest of a Vulcan, Shran threw the crossbow away and removed his trusty _Ushaan-tor_ from his belt. He parried the blow of a _lirpa_ and quickly swung his arm back the other way and slashed the Vulcan's throat.

Turning around, he saw one of the human soldiers – bleeding from a wound on his arm – under attack from one of the few Vulcans still alive. Not thinking twice, he rammed his _Ushaan-tor_ into the back of the enemy, dropping the Vulcan with a pained cry.

Preparing to engage the next one, he noticed that no Vulcans, except one were left and he saw Archer’s raised arm, notifying them to stop.

"Captain Archer," the Vulcan said and Shran could not remember that he had ever heard a Vulcan speak with so much emotion in his voice. "You came to finish what you started? Or are you just here to ingratiate yourself to that woman, T'Pau?"

Shran looked over at Archer, who still held the _lirpa_ he'd taken from one of the fallen Vulcans.

"Let's bring that to an end, shall we?" he heard the Vulcan mock further and waited for Archer’s reaction.

"Damn right, V'Las," Archer said and Shran readied himself to pounce, when he saw Archer throwing the _lirpa_ away. Why would the pink-skin disarm himself?

The answer came in the form of two loud bangs and he saw the Vulcan clutch his torso in wide-eyed horror.

Looking back to Archer, he saw the most menacing scowl he'd ever seen on a pink-skin and heard him growl: "That's for Maxwell, you bastard!"

Shran saw a little metallic weapon fall from Archers hand and rushed over to the human's side.

"What's that?" he asked and pointed towards the weapon.

"A little souvenir from a place in the Expanse. We met some exiled humans there."

"Why didn't you use it before?" Shran asked in confusion.

"It had only two bullets left and they had his damn name on them," Archer said and Shran watched him walk away.

"Major Talcin," Shran ordered. "Send two men to get the two stunned guards; we'll take them with us as prisoners. The others bury the corpses. We'll spend the night here."

"Aye, Sir."

=/\=

"What is it?" Archer asked, leaning against a wall, when the two Corporals returned without the guards two hours later.

"They somehow managed to kill themselves. They were both dead, when we arrived. First we thought that they had a poison capsule under the tongue, you know, like some of the Germans in the 1946 Nuremberg trial. We checked their mouths and noticed that both of them had a cracked molar. They were hollow."

"Dammit, they had their own suicide device," Archer realized, angry that he lost two valuable people for interrogation.

"I've noticed something else," the other corporal explained. "My dad is a plastic surgeon, so I noticed that some skin irregularities on their foreheads were actually scars from plastic surgery. They both had them and they were V-shaped."

Archer watched him indicate a V on his forehead.

"So whoever they were, they have either grooves or ridges on their foreheads in the shape of a V. We checked the other corpses on the way back – they all had those scars."

"Why didn't anyone notice?" Archer asked.

"If you don't know it, you'll never notice it. When I was a kid, I was amazed what my dad could do, you know, restoring the faces of disfigured people and so on. My dad always prided himself in not leaving any easily visible scars, so I had this little game as a boy. I looked at the pictures of the people he had worked on for hours until I found the scars. I loved to yank his chain, when I managed to find them."

"So they were either disfigured Vulcans or no Vulcans at all," Archer concluded.

"I think so," the MACO answered. "I thought our doctor might find that interesting."

Archer took the small box he was offered and opened it. It contained hairs and two green-stained pieces of cloth.

"From them," Archer stated the obvious.

=/\=

"So, we'll leave Soval here?" Malcolm asked during the morning briefing.

The ship was only one day from New-Xindus and Soval had practically been living in the conference room, endlessly haggling with the aquarians to accept him as a mediator,

"Considering, that it took several days to agree on Soval as the mediator," T'Pol explained. "It is the logical course of action. We cannot afford to stay idle for months until the aquarians come to a decision."

"I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with leaving him behind," Malcolm replied. "Shouldn't we at least leave a security detail as well."

"The Xindi have agreed to the deployment of a Vulcan diplomatic courier. Since they are able to travel at warp 7, they shall arrive within 3 weeks. Until then, we stay here..."

"Captain!" Malcolm cried out and pointed at the view port. Everyone turned the glance to the given direction and they saw a massive aquatic ship drop out of a vortex. When it opened its cavernous cargo hold, a ship floated out.

 _That's got to be the galaxies biggest colander,_ Malcolm thought, before T'Pol's order yanked him out of his thoughts.

"To the bridge!"

Running back onto the bridge, he quickly took his place behind the tactical console and heard Hoshi say excitedly: "It's them, they're hailing us."

"On screen."

When the picture came on the screen, they were greeted by a familiar, but awfully haggard looking face. Silence reigned for several moments, before the captain of the newly arrived ship spoke.

"Mother!"


	13. Ancestry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Pol freezes in the headlights, Shran wears a fridge freezer, Gardner suffers from double vision and Lorian rides a kitchen tool...

Nobody said anything – mainly because nobody knew what to say. Trip was sure that he probably did quite a good fish impression, staring open-mouthed at his son.

 _My son_ , he reminded himself mentally, before he noticed that everyone was staring at either Lorian or T'Pol, waiting for someone to say something.

"Dock your boat, son," Trip said, when he noticed that T'Pol appeared to be shell-shocked.

He went over to her and put his hand on her back. In every normal situation she would probably protest such thing during duty hours, but this was not a normal situation. Trip was convinced that the last thing she needed were rumors of the captain doing a 'deer-in-headlights' on the bridge.

"Let's go," he whispered and without any acknowledgment, she followed him into the turbo-lift.

"You have the bridge, Commander," Malcolm quipped in a mixture of bemusement and surprise, when the two were gone.

=/\=

"How you're holding up?" Archer asked, walking with Shran and the MACO detachment towards the Gateway, where a shuttle pod was waiting for them just outside the boundaries of the natural dampening field.

"What do you mean?"

"The heat," Archer explained. "It's hard for us. It must be hell for an Andorian out here."

Looking over to Shran, Archer saw him open the zipper of his uniform a bit to point at a metallic looking undergarment.

"Cooling suit," Shran explained.

Wanting to know why that worked in this disabling environment, Archer started to ask, but caught himself.

"Let me guess," he said with a hint of amused sarcasm. "It's specifically designed to work in the Forge?"

"Yes; it's made of two layers of metal, separated by an organic catalyst layer. A slow endothermic reaction cools the body down. But there are many hot worlds, not only Vulcan."

Archer grinned and shook his head. "Considering how quickly we disposed of over 20 Vulcans, or whatever they were, I'm surprised that Andoria never invaded Vulcan."

"We would have occupied the Forge in a matter of days. A Vulcan with a _lirpa_ has no chance against a skilled warrior with an _Ushaan-tor_."

"I've seen that," Archer said with an appreciative nod, remembering how quickly Shran had killed two of the attackers with his ice mining tool.

"But as soon as their precious technology works, they are superior. No matter how much the Imperial Guard would like to make it look otherwise – technologically Andoria doesn't stand a chance against Vulcan."

"Yet you developed enough technology, specifically to kill them," Archer said and shook his head slightly.

"Else they would have conquered us," Shran said defensibly. "I've heard you talking with the Corporal yesterday, about the surgery those Vulcans had."

"Yeah, what of it?" Archer asked.

"There are old myths on Andoria - myths about deformed Vulcans, bringing death and destruction, riding on the back of giant birds. Maybe those deformed Vulcans exist after all."

Archer was stunned – could it be...?

"We once ran into a Romulan mine field," he said with a hint of shock in his voice. "Their ships look like giant birds of prey."

=/\=

If possible, Trip would have shoved the airlock open with his bare hands. Somehow the few minutes that it took to dock the two _Enterprise_ 's seemed to expand to endless hours. When the doors finally slid open and the haggard frame of Lorian came into view, he pounced and grabbed him in a bear-hug.

"Damn son, it's so good to see you alive," he babbled misty-eyed. "Normally you would have deserved a slap in the face, for shooting your old man, but I couldn't do that, you know. Hell you ..."

"Trip!" These were the first words from T'Pol since she had seen Lorian.

"Sorry," he said and released Lorian from his clutches, realizing what a ridiculous scene he must have made.

Silently he watched the reunion of T'Pol and their unlikely offspring.

"Mother, it is good to see you again."

"I am pleased to see you alive."

The area before the airlock fell silent and Trip watched Lorian simply holding T'Pol's hands in his.

"Is she...?" T'Pol asked silently.

"You... she... died in the battle with the Kovalaans. Her quarters suffered a direct hit."

"I grieve with thee."

"My science officer, Yuichi Sato believes that her death enabled our existence in this time line."

"Trip does believe so as well."

"Son, what can we do for your crew?" Trip interrupted. "Do you need Phlox or an engineering team?"

"We suffered several casualties and as you can see the ship is in bad condition, especially the engine. Most of my crew has suffered from malnutrition for some days. We are grateful for any help you can give."

"Send your crew to our mess hall, I will inform Chef about the added meals necessary," T'Pol said. "How many crew members are on your ship?"

"Only 55," Lorian said and the sadness in his voice sent a shiver down Trip's spine. "We lost almost 50 people since we last saw each other."

"We could get the second galley going as well," Trip said. "Perhaps your cook can come over here and prepare some meals for the races we don't know."

He saw the nod of Lorian, before the tired looking son of his, went back to his ship to inform the crew.

=/\=

"Welcome back, Captains."

"Thanks, Barring," Archer said. "Anything happened, while we were on the surface?"

"Not much; The High Council contacted us and they asked that you contact them, once you're back."

"Ok, I'll call them, but first I need a long, hot shower – I've got half of the damn Forge on my uniform."

=/\=

Trip had a sense of déjà-vu. Had it really been just over a year ago, since he had been working on the injectors with a son by his side, who was three times his age? _T'Pol will probably meditate the whole night over this,_ he thought.

"Son," he said with a sigh and shook his head in frustration. "Forget it, this engine is toast."

"I was afraid, you'd say that," he answered and Trip was still not completely used to see a scowl on the face of someone, who looked Vulcan; at least mostly. The rounded eyebrows looked distinctly human, but the ears were hard to miss.

"So, what happened the last year," Trip asked and motioned Lorian to sit down with him on one of the large tool boxes standing around. "The Xindi said you guys were all over the place."

"The Kovaalans were not merely upset about trespassing. They consider the corridor a place where their deities reside."

"And we desecrated the place by blasting right through it."

"Indeed. They kept chasing us all over the Expanse. We were able to hide in nebulae several times, but never long enough to finish all critical repairs, let alone having any chance to replenish our supplies."

"Dammit, why didn't you try to reach Earth? You must have noticed that the anomalies went away."

"We noticed that, but Earth was still off-limits. There are too many stretches of space between here and Earth that have no nebulae or other natural phenomena to hide in. Our engine is a century old and in disrepair. We had to take it offline every second day at least to cool down."

"So you would've been on the run all your life, if we hadn't come back." Trip said and the relief about having found them grew even bigger.

"I knew you would come back," Lorian said resolutely. "I've seen it in your eyes. You gained new hope to have a life with mother when we met the first time. You would try to find out what happened to us, when we didn't follow through the corridor."

"First Erika, now you, is everybody able to read my mind?" Trip asked, amazed about Lorian's spot-on analysis.

"I don't know, who Erika is, but I don't need to read your mind; you're my father."

Trip remained silent as he contemplated Lorian's words.

"Must be strange," he said after a while. "Losing your parents and suddenly meeting them again, younger than you've ever seen them."

"I've learned to suspend logic for many aspects of our very existence. It had been easier for me, since I had known you in my life time. Other crew members met their great grandparents. They had a much bigger leap of logic to overcome."

"That's for sure," Trip said. "Anyways, since we can't do much here, why don't you go for a rest and meet us for dinner in the evening. Hoshi and Malcolm will be there, too."

"I shall look after my crew members, and will meet you in the evening."

"Brilliant," Trip beamed. "1900 in T'Pol's quarters. I suppose you know the way."

Trip grinned at Lorian's raised brow.

"Like mother, like son," he said and left engineering after giving Lorian a pat on the shoulder.

=/\=

"I have them," he heard the young Ensign at the com station say and John started walking towards the ready room.

"Patch it through, Ensign."

Arriving at his place in the ready room and punching the monitor button, Jon was surprised to see Minister T'Pau's face instead of Minister Kuvak, who had briefed him on the mission.

"Captain Archer, it is agreeable to see you again."

"Nice to see you, too, Minister," he answered, still not quite sure why she had accepted the call.

"Minister Kuvak is with me in this room, but I wanted to hear about the mission first hand."

Jon wasn't sure, why she had so astutely guessed his thoughts, but he tried to keep his confusion well hidden.

"Was the mission successful?" T'Pau asked.

"It was, Minister," he answered with a tired nod. "Nineteen fugitives have been eliminated; two took their own lives to avoid capture."

"And former Administrator V'Las…?"

"I eliminated him personally. The fugitives have been buried on site, the human casualties have been returned to _Columbia._ "

"We grieve with thee. How many casualties did you suffer?"

"Two; One was killed in an ambush attack, another in the final confrontation with V'Las and his remaining followers."

"Please forward the identities of the fallen. We wish to commend them on behalf of all of Vulcan. You all have done an invaluable Service to our people."

"As you wish, Minister," Jon answered before his face turned into a small scowl. "We were honored to help, but with all due respect, we hope that the High Council will not make it a habit of calling Starfleet in, whenever there's a dirty job to do."

"Of course not," T'Pau answered with a nod that looked almost submissive to Jon. "It is exceedingly rare that executions become necessary on Vulcan. It is only due to the exceedingly precarious situation on Vulcan, that we were forced to put the burden on our allies. Such instances will surely never arise again."

"That's good to hear, Minister," Jon said. "There's something else. We noticed some irregularities with the fugitives..." He was cut off by T'Pau's raised hand.

"Captain, we are aware of possible... irregularities."

"And you didn't think it would be prudent to tell us about it?" Jon asked with a slight irritation seeping into his voice.

"I did not think it would be important for this mission."

"Do you allow me to speak freely, Minister?" Jon asked, now sporting a prominent scowl.

"Of course."

"It took me years to learn to trust Vulcans and a major obstacle along this path was that your people never gave us any information beyond what you thought was the absolute minimum, necessary to get the job done. I understand your need for secrecy when it comes to private details. I had Surak's _katra_ with me long enough to understand that, but when you ask us to go on a mission that can get people killed, it is patently illogical to send us out without all available information."

"No offense meant," he added after a while, when he saw T'Pau's raised eyebrow. Instead of a rebuttal, he got a completely unexpected reply.

"There is no offense, where none is taken, Captain. Minister Kuvak confronted me with the same logic today," she explained with a nod to the Minister, who sat out of viewing range. "Now that we are working to build up a formal Coalition, we shall take this logic under advice."

"That's very good to hear, Minister."

Jon saw his statement answered by an affirmative nod, before T'Pau came to the next question.

"Is Commander Shran unharmed?"

"He is perfectly fine. He was a big help and actually commanded the mission. But it's Captain Shran now. He became a member of Starfleet two days before we started the mission."

Jon watched her reaction and he couldn't suppress a grin, seeing how T'Pau struggled to keep her cute pout from turning into a Vulcan almost-smile. _Since when do I think of Vulcans as cute?_ He thought.

"It appears, Captain, that once again Humanity is one step ahead of us," she said and Jon thought he heard an undercurrent of approval in her voice. "While we are still trying to agree on basic terms of a Coalition, Starfleet has already three races in its service and it is logical to assume that it soon will be four."

Jon's grin widened.

"Why do I think, you didn't just guess that? We're building a whole lot of ships and we cannot keep up recruiting enough people, especially helmsmen. The Tellarites have several helmsmen waiting for a good posting, so some of them might be Earth-bound."

Taking the clue on ship building, T'Pau continued.

"When you return to Earth, please forward to Admiral Gardner our offer that Starfleet may make use of two or three space-docks at the T'Kuth shipyards as a sign of our gratitude."

Jon thought he might just as well look like Phlox now, as his grin grew wider still.

"You find this amusing, Captain?"

"Sort of, Minister. I just came to realize that three of our ships are built in the solar system, two in a shipyard near Tellar, two at Azati Prime in Xindi space and now Vulcan offers help as well. So, while the politicians still bicker over details, we're practicing the Coalition out here all the time already."

"Indeed," T'Pau answered with a raised eyebrow.

While Jon was still shaking his head in amused disbelief, T'Pau presented another point of discussion.

"Captain, there are two final things to discuss, both of personal nature."

Jon nodded.

"Starfleet asked me to inform you that your mate, Captain Hernandez, has regained partial use of her eyes and that a full recovery of her vision is expected shortly."

Jon choked up and quickly turned his head away in an attempt to hide his emotional display from T'Pau. After regaining some modicum of composure he turned back to the screen, but before he could utter an apology, he saw T'Pau's slow nod, which he interpreted as a silent sign of understanding, remembering from the time with Surak's spirit rattling around in his skull, what powerful emotions Vulcans associated with their mates.

"Thank you Minister, that's just the good news I needed."

"I believe Admiral Gardner thought so as well, since he did not wait for your return to inform you."

Only now Jon noticed that Minister Kuvak had joined T'Pau in the visual range of the terminal.

"Minister Kuvak," he greeted; his voice still thick with emotion.

"Captain Archer," Kuvak returned. "I, too have a personal matter to discuss with you. Word has gotten to us that the _Vahklas_ is returning to Vulcan."

"The Vulcans without Logic," Jon said as an indication of his remembering.

"My son Kov is on that ship and since it would be difficult for him to reintegrate into Vulcan society, he indicated in his latest transmission that he would consider entry into Human service an agreeable prospect."

"I will recommend him," Jon agreed. "My Chief Engineer, Commander Tucker, spoke very highly of him."

"I find this agreeable," Kuvak answered.

"That brings up a request of mine, however," Jon said and his face went back to a very disapproving scowl. He could see that they tried to hide it, but Jon noticed the minuscule signs of confusion on the Vulcans' faces, concerning his sudden change in expression.

"Minister T'Pau, I understand you cured T'Pol's _Pa'nar_ syndrome?"

"Yes."

"There is a crew member on that ship. His name is Tolaris. He gave it to her... by force."

Wouldn't it be such a serious moment, Jon would have laughed about the visual struggle of the two Vulcan's on the screen. While Minister Kuvak somehow managed to keep up an appearance of control, the much less experienced T'Pau displayed an open expression of naked shock. The last Vulcan he had seen in such an open state of terror had been T'Pol, when he had staged the biggest comeback since Lazarus in the altered 1940's time line.

"She was violated," T'Pau half stated, half asked.

"T'Pol was reluctant to provide any details," Jon explained. "But how I understand it, she was a willing participant at first, but when she asked him to stop, he forced himself upon her. T'Pol ended up in sickbay and when I confronted him, he assaulted me. I had no other chance than to administer collective punishment and sent them away, despite unfinished repairs to their ship. I thought you knew that already from your mind meld with T'Pol?"

"I only melded with T'Pol to cure her Pa'nar syndrome; I did not access her memories any more than necessary."

"The crime was committed aboard Enterprise and T'Pol was assigned to Starfleet Command at the time, so legally, the whole incident falls under Earth jurisdiction. If you take him into custody and extradite him to Earth, he will get a fair trial."

"That would be an agreeable solution," T'Pau answered with a nod.

"We will need your permission for Doctor Phlox to reveal details about Vulcan mind-melds," Jon said. "He has worked many years on Vulcan and we need those information to put Tolaris' actions into a legal frame that fits into human laws."

"Our permission will be given, once the criminal is delivered into Earth custody," T'Pau explained.

"Thank you, Minister. It was a pleasure seeing you again," he said with a nod.

"As it was to see you," she answered. "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life," Jon replied before the screen went black.

Still seated, contemplating the talk with T'Pau and Kuvak, Jon was startled by the door chime.

"Come."

Jon looked at Shran as he entered the ready room. His face was now clean and blue again and he was back in his not-quite-standard dark Starfleet uniform. He noticed the bulging side pocket of Shran's uniform.

"That better be Ale," he said and pointed at the pocket.

"What did you think?" Shran answered with a return question and held up the bottle. "Bad news?"

"No, good news; Erika can see again," Jon said with a wide grin and indicated Shran to sit down.

=/\=

Lorian sat quietly at the table, between his father and Commander Malcolm Reed and observed the assembly. Not only had he to adapt to seeing his parents again, but also to the fact that in this time line Hoshi Sato did not marry Major Hayes, but was in a relationship with Malcolm Reed, who had died as a lonesome bachelor on his ship not too long after his father.

"Lorian, are you well?" The question of T'Pol startled him out of his thoughts.

"I am well, mother. I was merely distracted. It is a strange feeling seeing each one of you again as I also saw each one you die and held the Eulogy."

"I can see how that must be a bit weird," Malcolm added wistfully.

"The pleasure of having a second chance to meet all the people I grew up with offsets any awkwardness," he said while his father opened the door for the arriving steward.

=/\=

"Catfish," Hoshi said with a smile when she saw that all three males had the same dish. "Why am I not surprised?"

"That's one of the more human aspects of my character. Father and I share most preferences for food."

For the first time Hoshi saw the smile of Lorian that she had heard about all through the day. It was a nice sight, she decided.

"Well, son," Trip said and Hoshi watched him as he took 3 glasses from a cupboard. "I hope you share that particular preference."

Hoshi couldn't tell for sure, but she would have bet that the smirk and the raised eyebrow of Lorian were meant to ask 'Is the pope catholic?'

=/\=

"So, what are you going to do now?" Trip asked when they had finished their dishes. "You guys coming with us back to Earth?"

"It is the only logical option," Lorian answered. "Maybe Starfleet can provide us with a new ship or help us repair ours. Technically it is still Starfleet property."

"I thought after all these years, people would be eager to get dirt-side. Why do you want a new ship?" Trip asked - confusion visible in his face.

"Father, there is not a single crew member on my ship, who hasn't been born on it. Many cannot even imagine living on a planet. There are some, who wish to stay on Earth, but many want to stay in space. It's the only life they've ever known."

"Figures," Malcolm agreed with a nod. "I was in your armory today. Considering that this ship is almost 120 years old, I'd say it is in surprisingly good condition."

"If you ignore the paint job and the fried engine," Trip said. "But I think if they strip her to the skeleton, slap in a new engine and rebuild the outer hull, she should be good as new in about 4 to 6 months."

"What are they doing?" Hoshi asked and pointed to three people in EV suits, working on the outer hull of Lorian's _Enterprise,_ which was clearly visible through the view-port.

Trip smiled as he was the only one besides Lorian, who knew the answer.

"They are updating the markings on the hull. Now that we return to Earth it would be impractical to have two ships designated as _NX-01 Enterprise,_ " Lorian explained.

"You're renaming your ship?" Malcolm asked. "Shouldn't it be us, who rename the ship? You've had that name for over a century."

"Your crew has an emotional attachment to the name," Lorian said and shook his head. "Mine hasn't. Once all original crew members except Mother were gone, people stopped using the name over the years."

"What did they call her?" Hoshi asked.

"Home."

The room fell silent as everyone realized, what the battered, century old ship outside meant to Lorian's crew.

"Don't worry," Trip said and put a supporting hand on Lorian's shoulder. I'll make sure that Gardner gets her repaired. Hell, he'll probably be happy to add a tenth ship to the fleet."

Lorian nodded.

"So they're painting a giant HOME on the hull?" Malcolm asked and pointed in the direction of the view-port.

"No," Lorian said. "My crew decided to designate her _NX-00 Colander._ "

Trip laughed out loud as Malcolm ejected the last swig of beer through his nose and started coughing and laughing simultaneously.

"Their sense of humor is... unique," T'Pol said with a raised giggle-brow.

=/\=

Jon and Shran entered Starfleet Medical for the briefing about the genetic examination of the samples they had brought back from Vulcan. Jon stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's he doing there?" he asked angrily.

"Calm down, Jon," Gardner said. "We need him. Doctor McKay, would you?"

"When we examined the samples, we found nothing but Vulcan DNA with an extremely small deviation in the appearance sequences. We extrapolated this phantom image."

Jon inspected the 3D image of a Vulcan head, which showed two prominent ridges on the forehead. They formed a V, just as the young MACO had described on Vulcan.

"They do exist..." Shran said in a dark voice.

"That's when I was contacted," Arik Soong interrupted. "My colleague's work is commendable, but he hasn't got my experience of reading genetic sequences."

"Which of course you made available all out of charity," Jon spat sarcastically.

"Jon," Gardner hissed and he understood that the Admiral would not tolerate a bitching match, so he forced back his anger, despite Soong's arrogant attitude.

"I admit that the promise of certain privileges made it easier to acquiesce," Song said. "But I digress, please have a look. On first glance this is indeed Vulcan DNA, but there are more subtle differences to the DNA of contemporary Vulcans."

"Contemporary Vulcans?" Jon asked. "You mean to say these are not Vulcans but they share a common ancestry?"

"Very perceptive Captain," Soong said with a grin and Jon knew it was as fake as that of a Klingon. 

"These two sequences differ from those of a contemporary Vulcan. They influence the pulmonary tissue and these sequences influence the skeleton. The changes indicate that these Vulcans have adapted to a thicker atmosphere and a lower gravity."

"How long would it take evolution to make these changes?" Jon asked.

"Difficult to say, Captain; assuming a normal Vulcan life span and a new generation every 70 to 80 years, I would say between 1.500 and 5.000 years."

"Those, who march beneath the raptor's wing..." Jon muttered as he put the final pieces of the puzzle together.

"Jon?" Gardner asked.

"Admiral, when I had those visions of Surak, he spoke about 'those, who walk beneath the raptor's wing'. They were Vulcans, who left their home-world 2.000 years ago. Raptor is another word for Bird Of Prey. Shran says, there are myths on Andoria about deformed Vulcans, who bring destruction on the back of giant birds."

"So you think those fugitives on Vulcan evolved from Vulcans, who left 2.000 years ago," Gardner said.

"More than that Admiral! We've met two species, whose ships look like giant bird of prey – the Klingons and the Romulans. The Klingons don't look anything like a Vulcan and we've never seen a Romulan. They only spoke to us through audio-only connections, because they probably don't want us to see them."

"You say Romulans evolved from Vulcans?" Gardner asked and Jon saw the naked shock on the Admirals face. Even Soong had the decency to look unsettled.

"It all makes sense, Admiral. They left after they devastated their own home-world in a nuclear war. One of the little information we have on them is, that they're a warrior race. Their ships look like raptors and Vulcans call them 'those who walk beneath the raptors wing', and they try to hide their appearance from us. It must be the Romulans!"

"None of this must ever leave the room!" Gardner said. "If anybody gets wind of that, we can shoot this whole coalition idea right to hell!"

"I agree, Admiral," Jon said, but before he could continue, he was interrupted by a com chime.

=/\=

"Gardner here."

"Admiral, we've been contacted by Jupiter station. They're registering two approaching Xindi ships."

"Aquatics?" Gardner asked back.

"Yes, and they've picked up the signature of Enterprise, too... um, twice, Sir."

"I'll be damned," Gardner said. "Contact Command, I need a shuttle to Jupiter station immediately."

_Four hours later..._

Gardner stood in front of the huge panorama view-port in the Starfleet office on Jupiter Station. Transfixed he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. Two gigantic Xindi ships approached on impulse power and released two Starfleet ships from their cavernous cargo holds.

"I can't believe they survived," Jon muttered in the background.

"I never thought they'd really find them," Gardner added. "It's a sight to behold."

One ship was easily identifiable as _Enterprise_ and the other, although essentially the same ship, just 117 years older, bore little resemblance. The hull was littered with breaches of various sizes, scorch marks were visible on those areas of the hull, which hadn't breached yet. This was a ship that had spent decades fighting for survival.

A chirp came from the com-panel.

"Gardner."

"Admiral we're being hailed."

"Patch it through."

"This is Captain Lorian of the _NX-00 Colander._ Request permission to dock."

Gardner and Archer looked at each other dumbfounded for a moment, before both started to laugh.

"Granted... _Collander_ ," Gardner managed, before plopping into his chair, while another guffaw rattled him.


	14. Trials and Refits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip drives a hot rod, Malcolm drives a hot rod, T'Pol gets her undergarments disheveled and Hoshi swears like a lumberjack...

_NX-01 "Enterprise" at Jupiter Station, July 16th 2155_

"Hey, come in," Trip said as he indicated Jon and Shran to enter. "Commodore, huh, looks like you fell up the ladder. Congratulations."

"Thanks; As of three hours ago, but don't think you'll get rid of me," Jon answered and Trip mirrored the wide grin of his friend. "I'll be your fleet commander."

"Thought you'd get the _Atlantis_?" Trip asked, while Shran and Archer took their seats at the table after exchanging nods with T'Pol, Hoshi and Malcolm.

"No, Erika gets her, but I'll be stationed on _Atlantis_ as Fleet Commander."

"Now if that's not a coincidence," Trip said with a wide grin. "How is she by the way."

"She's on the mend. Her sight's been back for a month now and she has started rehab to rebuild muscle mass."

"So what you've been up to, while we were in the Expanse, Sir? I heard something about you being attacked on Vulcan?" Malcolm asked.

"Always the security officer, Malcolm," Archer said with an amused grin. "You'll get the details when you take over your own ship next year, but suffice to say the official version differs slightly from the actual events."

"It's been decided then? I get my own command?" Malcolm asked and Trip could hear some excitement in his voice.

"Yes, NX-07 _Buran_ will be yours, Congratulations. She'll be ready in February, together with _Atlantis_ and _Endeavour._ "

"Although it would've been a more appropriate choice for Shran," Trip said with a chuckle, while serving beer to the male contingent. T'Pol and Hoshi preferred juice.

"Why?" Shran asked.

" _Buran_ is Russian and means 'snow storm'," Hoshi explained.

"With Lorian’s ship that'll make 8 in the fleet, that should give those Romulans something to think about, before they dare to attack," Malcolm said in an appreciative voice.

"Actually, ten," Archer corrected. "I thought you might know about this already, but obviously not. The Xindi are building two NX-class ships at Azati Prime in fact, your _Buran_ will be one of them. It was first planned to be built here, but they shuffled things around a bit."

Trip whistled in appreciation. "Looks like our trip was more successful than expected."

Archer nodded, while clinking glasses with the other men around.

=/\=

"What the hell?" Trip exclaimed, when he walked the corridor towards the briefing room with T'Pol and Lorian the next morning.

He stopped at the view port and stared at the two contraptions that floated in space near the station. They had two nacelles, slightly bigger than those of _Enterprise,_ but their bodies mounted at the bottom were not much bigger than twice or three times the size of engineering and they had some sort of dish mounted at the front. Due to the small bulk, the nacelles, which protruded in a huge V shape, looked ridiculously oversized.

"I'm sure the admiral will be able to explain them," Lorian said. "We need to hurry, however. We should not be late for the briefing."

=/\=

Admiral Gardner grinned.

"Uh, oh, Commander Tucker might be heading our way with an opinion," he said to his aide jokingly, when the commotion in the corridor could be heard from within the briefing room.

Still grinning, he returned the greetings of the three visitors as they entered the briefing room.

"You look like an engineer with a question," the admiral said.

"You bet," Trip replied and mirrored the admiral’s grin. "Since when does Starfleet build hot rods?"

Gardner nodded towards his aide, who connected a laser projector to a PADD. Soon the picture of a well-modified NX-class appeared on the wall. No further explanation came forward, so the three officers took a look at what was presented to them. It was easily visible that the 'hot rods' were actually extensions, which were meant to be mated to the hull of a NX-class star ship, which did not much to improve the looks of the sleek vessel.

The admiral had come to know and appreciate Commander Tucker as one of the few people, who did not look at rank insignia, before making their opinion known and he did not have to hazard a guess, what the Commander would say about the slightly ungainly looks of the proposed design changes.

"I suppose there's a good reason to make our ship look ugly?" came the foreseeable question.

"I admit, we won't be nominated for a design prize," Gardner agreed. "But I think a thoroughly 'Tuckerized' and enlarged engine and a Vulcan energy shield will make up for the beauty deficit."

"Vulcan shielding? The real thing?"

"Straight out of a _Suurok_ class battle-cruiser," Gardner explained. "Not the makeshift, hunkered down version you tested on your voyage to the Xindi."

"I'll be damned," Trip said with an admiring grin. "Does that have to do with Jon's mysterious trip to Vulcan?"

"In a way," the admiral agreed. "Captain T'Pol will receive the confident details of that mission and since you are not your garden-variety Captain-Engineer combo, I'd be ok with you sharing these details, as long as I have your word that nothing of it will leave whatever room you are in at the time and that the room in question is not the mess hall."

"You have our word," T'Pol assured. "Does this permission to share information include our son?"

Gardner smiled, when he realized that they seemed to have adopted Lorian as their own, which he was in a bizarre, roundabout time traveling way, but technically wasn't at the same time.

"Since Lorian will soon be a Captain in good Starfleet standing, he will get the same report, so it's all the same to me."

"Does that mean Starfleet has come to a decision regarding our ship?" Lorian asked.

"Indeed we have," Gardner said. "According to Commander Tucker's report the internal structure of your ship is perfectly sound. So we decided to rebuild the outer hull with a little help from Vulcan. In fact the second 'hot rod' out there will be bolted under your ship's belly."

"This is satisfying news, Admiral. What will happen with the crew?"

"Every one of them, who wants to stay on board, will receive a basic training on Starfleet procedures and ranks will be assigned after evaluating each applicant’s field-experience. There is one catch though."

"A catch?"

"Yes; With all respect to your crew's sense of humor, but I'm afraid you won't be getting to keep the snappy name."

"That was to be expected," Lorian agreed with a smile. "Does Starfleet have a proposal?"

"We were thinking about NX-10 _Endurance._ "

"Considering the ship's history, the name is most appropriate."

"May I ask a technical question?" Trip interrupted, which prompted an affirmative nod from Gardner.

"Considering that these things are built separately, does that mean they are detachable?"

"Only to a degree," Gardner’s aide answered after being prompted to do so. "In an emergency situation, the two parts of the ship can be separated, but it requires 6 engineers in EVA suites to detach the nacelle pylons from the main hull. Reconnecting both resulting vessels requires a space dock."

"So not a very useful procedure then," Trip stated.

"It can be," the young lieutenant disagreed. "In an emergency, the saucer section can limp away on impulse power, while the extension section can commence battle as an extremely nimble vehicle. We are still working on making the separation more practical."

"The thing has its own bridge?" Trip asked.

"Yes," Gardner answered. "It can be run with a minimum complement of six. That brings me to one of the reasons I called you here for. Captain T'Pol can you man the two vessels out there with officers and crewmen of your crew?"

He handed her a PADD with the crew requirements for the 'hot rods'.

"It should be possible," she answered after studying the documents. "However, logic dictates that both Chief Engineer and helmsman require a certain experience, considering that the engines in the extension sections are built to power a much larger and heavier vehicle."

"I doubt that you have any problems in the engineering department," Gardner replied with a smirking look at Trip. "So I guess you have reservations about helmsmen?"

"Indeed. Both helmsman and communications officer of the gamma shift have only recently joined the crew and it would pose a certain risk to leave them in charge of such a delicate vehicle without supervision of a more experienced officer."

"Could you spare a helmsman and a com officer, once your crew has been sworn in?" Gardner asked Lorian.

"I doubt that Starfleet has any officers more experienced than Karyn Archer and my science officer Yuichi Sato. But our crew is already stretching thin, so they would be missing for running _Endurance_ ," Lorian answered and Gardner had to smile about the way Lorian used the new name as if it had always been the one of his ship.

"I doubt they will be needed, when traveling inside an aquatic ship," the admiral explained. "In two weeks’ time, _Enterprise_ , the two 'hot-rods' and an aquatic ship will fly in convoy towards the _T'Kuth_ shipyards in Vulcan space. Your ship will get a new hull and both ships will be refitted with the new extensions."

"Are the Xindi running a shuttle-service for us now?" Trip asked with amusement about the recent rise in piggy-back rides with the Aquatics.

"Well, let's say, ever since we helped them getting rid of the sphere-builders, they're practically falling over to provide any help they can."

=/\=

"Good morning, Commodore."

"Good morning, Melinda," Jon answered, falling in step with the head-nurse. "Is Erika ready yet?"

"Oh, she's waiting for you in the exercise room already, but let me warn you, her mood is foul at best."

"Torture room would probably be more appropriate," Jon answered with a slight shiver. "After what I had to put her through yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised if she tried to kill or dump me at the very least. I can't understand what went on in your heads to put me in charge of her rehab program. I'm a Captain, not a physiotherapist."

"Um, well," Melinda said. "We knew that the program would be hell in the first weeks. We thought, you'd be the only one she won't kill."

"Why, thank you," Jon said with a hint of sarcasm as they reached the door to the 'torture chamber', where Jon's victim was waiting for another day of excruciating rehab training.

=/\=

_July 30th 2155, en-route to Vulcan_

Trip sat in the captain’s chair of his hot-rod, effortlessly screaming towards Vulcan at a steady warp 5.7. Considering that the new engine was built to reach the same speed with _Enterprise_ added to the current structure, it was barely above idle, while he was sure that Anna, now acting Chief Engineer, had her hands full to ensure that _Enterprise_ would keep up with the 'hot-rods' and the aquatic ship, which provided a lift for _Endurance_ and Lorian’s merry band of newly minted Starfleet officers.

"Captain, _Enterprise_ asks for a status report," Lieutenant Yuichi Sato, com officer on loan from _Endurance_ said.

"Patch them through Lieutenant."

" _Enterprise_ to _Bullet One_ , we require your current status."

T'Pol's voice filled the small bridge of their vehicle and Trip had to grin about the fact how long it had taken him and Malcolm to get T'Pol to agree that they may name their 'hot rods' _Bullet One_ and _Bullet Two._

"This is _Bullet One._ All systems are working perfectly."

"Acknowledged. The Vulcan High Council has cleared approach. Contact _Bullet Two_ and prepare to go ahead at warp 5.85. When you arrive at the ship yards, both vehicles are to be handed over into responsibility of Commodore O'Riordan and Professor Solan."

"Understood, _Enterprise._ "

Trip waited for Lt. Sato to close the channel. Of course T'Pol's order did only convey the part that concerned the crew. The fact that he was to prepare her mother’s house for her arrival had been arranged privately before. While the crew would spend some well-earned shore leave in the human compound, he was looking forward to some quite days with T'Pol, Malcolm and Hoshi in her mother’s home, which was now becoming theirs. If no problems arose, they were set to arrive in Vulcan space at least two days before _Enterprise_ and the Aquatics.

"Lieutenant, patch me a channel to grandma," Trip ordered with a grin, which all bridge crew acknowledged with chuckles.

"Don't let her hear that, Captain," Yuichi Sato answered with amusement.

"Why? You are preparing to rat me out to Hoshi, Lieutenant?" Trip asked back, which caused another round of amusement on the bridge.

"Patching through," Hoshi's great grandson reported.

" _Bullet Two_ , this is _Bullet One_ , what's your status Malcolm?"

"All systems working," Malcolm reported.

"Did you get T'Pol's order?"

"Yes, just give the word. We're ready to accelerate."

Trip smiled. Malcolm sounded positively relaxed. If it had been the fact that he was almost alone on the bridge with Hoshi, his first command or the prospect of several days of R&R on Vulcan was hard to say, but it was good to see Malcolm open up since he was dating Hoshi.

" _Bullet One_ and _Two_ , Tucker to helm. Advance to warp 5.85, direct course to _T'Kuth_ approach perimeter, NOW."

"Warp 5.85, direct course," came the almost simultaneous reply from Ensign Karyn Archer and Ensign Carrick, Travis' wing man, who operated the helm in _Bullet Two_.

=/\=

"One more time, honey," Jon said encouragingly, while Erika hung between the wooden bars, completely exhausted.

"I can't," Erika pleaded.

"You can," Jon disagreed. "You managed 10 passes yesterday and 10 passes the day before, so..."

"Which part of 'I'm beat' don't you understand?" Erika spat angrily, still hanging powerlessly between the bars that she supported herself on in her attempts to relearn walking and building up muscles that were degenerated after months of immobility.

"Erika, I know it is hard, but if we want to get away from this place," Jon said, looking around the 'torture chamber' disapprovingly. "The sooner you get better, the sooner we're out of here. Do you think I'm having fun with this? I can think of better hobbies than watching you being cranky for weeks."

"WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?" Erika shrieked. "I nearly get killed by fucking Klingons, then I wake up with months of my life missing, blind, and powerless and fucking horny like a sixteen year old, because you read this stuff to me, while I was in the coma and now you torture the damn stuffing out of me, while you sit there like Pasha!"

Jon waited for her rant to be over.

"Got it out of your system now?" he asked, trying to sound as impassive as possible. "First of all, it's certainly not my fault that all your favorite books are smut novels. Can you imagine how I felt reading that stuff out loud? Do you think I have fun seeing you in agony?"

Erika stared at him, still enraged. With grunts of pain, she pushed herself up on her arms and waddled forward, huffing and puffing like an old steam locomotive, her face a pained grimace of fury. Once she reached the end of the bars, she just let go and Jon nearly sprained an ankle in the attempt to catch her, before she piled into a heap on the floor. Once in his arms she started to cry heartbreakingly and Jon rubbed her back, trying to calm her down.

"I'm so sorry Jon," she muttered between sobs.

"It's ok, honey."

=/\=

"Bloody Norah," Malcolm swore under his breath. He should have known that, when a die-hard gentleman like Trip advised against usual chivalry and let Hoshi carry her own stuff, it was best to heed the warning. Instead he had insisted on carrying both his and Hoshi's duffel, which had the size and weight of Belgium, and he was now paying the price as the three officers climbed up the long path towards T'Pol's home. Hoshi had dropped more than one subtle hint that she would be fine with him handing over one of the bags, but his pride would not allow him to admit defeat, so he soldiered on.

"You could have listened to me, you know," Trip said smugly as he opened the door for a hard-breathing Malcolm.

"How can you be so bloody cheerful in this heat," Malcolm grumbled. "I thought you were the one, who hates the desert."

"You'll get used to it in a day or two," Trip said, entering the house. "Now better sit down before you fall down, I'll get us something to drink.

Hoshi and Malcolm sat down with Hoshi giving the wheezing Brit a smiling head-shake.

"Dammit," Trip said as he came back, carrying a tray with 3 glasses of _Kasa_ juice. "One cell of the stasis unit is out."

"Can you repair it?" Hoshi asked taking one of the glasses.

"Sure," Trip answered. "But first we have to get rid of a lot of _Yon-Savas_ and _Mashya,_ that shouts 'lights out!' at you in Vulcan, when you open the door."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of that. You do the technical stuff, I'll do the cleaning," Hoshi ruled.

"And I'm what, the designated decoration?" Malcolm asked.

"You come with me," Trip said with a grin. "First we got to light the kettles out there. It'll soon be dark."

"What's that for?" Malcolm asked.

"It's to keep wildlife away. If you have stray animals in your backyard around here, it aint gonna be little dogs."

=/\=

_August, 2nd 2155 T'Kuth approach perimeter_

"This is Captain T'Pol of the Earth vessel _Enterprise_. We request permission to dock."

" _This is sub-lieutenant T'Kerat, T'Kuth approach control. You have permission for mooring in dock 3,"_ came the reply in Vulcan.

"Sub-lieutenant, upon reviewing your protocols you will notice that communication with Starfleet ships is to be performed in Human Standard," T'Pol answered and noticed a bit too late that she hadn't quite managed to keep her voice completely neutral.

"Of course, Captain," the control officer answered in English after a moment of silence. "Mooring is permitted in dock 3, _Enterprise_."

"Acknowledged. Ensign Maywheather, perform docking maneuver. Lieutenant Commander Hess, you have the bridge."

"Aye, Captain," both officers answered, while T'Pol disappeared into the ready room.

=/\=

"You know," Malcolm said with a smirk, slightly gasping for air. "I'm starting to think you only invited us here, so you have me for helping with repairs and Hoshi for the cleaning."

"Very funny," he joked back. "It certainly wasn't my idea to let the pipes rot and the water synthesizer break. And besides, Hoshi doesn't look like cleaning," he added, tilting his head toward a bikini clad Hoshi, who was catching some sunlight on a deck chair.

"Well she has been for almost two days," Malcolm replied. "But I don't think she minds. I thought her cooking obsession two years ago was a one-time thing, but she does seem to have a bit of a domestic streak."

"Ever heard of nesting?" Trip asked smugly, prompting a snort from Malcolm.

Both kept digging back the soil after they had renewed the rotten pipes with new ones that Professor Solan had helped them purchase in a nearby market.

"Speaking of a break," Malcolm said. "I think we should take one. I'll get us a beer."

"Works for me."

When he passed the dozing Hoshi on his way back, Malcolm couldn't resist putting one of the ice-cold bottles on Hoshi's belly, making her wake up with a shriek."

"You!" she called and threw a cushion after the rapidly retreating Malcolm.

Malcolm handed Trip the beer and wondered, why Trip was looking somewhat unfocused.

"Something wrong Trip?"

"Don't know. T'Pol just arrived at the space docks and she's pissed off like hell."

=/\=

"Yes, honey, that's good," John said enthusiastically.

Erika made the fifteenth pass along the bars, grunting from the exertion. Progress was painfully slow, but her legs, which after months in a hospital bed had been about the size of other people's arms, were starting to resemble extremities with actual muscles again, but both knew that it was still a long road to recovery. At least her mood had gotten better. While Jon was convinced that her latest progress was the key to that, Erika maintained that it was due to Jon finally giving up his reluctance to do something about her literature-induced hornyness.

"Ok, honey, sit down and take a break," he said. "Gardner will be here any minute."

"Do you know what he wants?"

"Just the normal weekly briefing. We decided, that it would be better that he comes here, instead of me going to command and interrupt your training for too long."

"You seem to have some pull with the top brass," Erika said with a smile.

"Let me put it this way. Of all the responsibilities he took on after Maxwell's death, Trip and T'Pol and the two of us seem to be Gardner's pet projects."

"Is Starfleet dealing in match-making now?"

"Not really, but I think he tries to keep a protecting eye on us because Black is still waiting for one of our relationships to blow up spectacularly and interfere with duties, so he can reintroduce his precious no-frat rules."

"Don't tell me he still holds a grudge."

"Oh, he does. It got even worse after his old lady filed for divorce, when she caught him doing the secretary."

Erika gasped. "So Mr. Morals wanted to make monks and nuns out of us, but dips his wick with the secretary? That's rich!"

"Correct," came a voice from the door. "Unfortunately, saying it out loud would cost me my job."

"Morning, Admiral,” Jon and Erika said in unison.

"Morning. You look good Erika. After what Jon told me about the training, I was prepared to find you skinning him alive."

"Don't worry, Admiral," Erika said with smile. "I thought about it a few times, but I think he's still useful."

"Hey!" Jon said, but his attempt at mock indignation failed, because he couldn't hold back his laughter.

"Good for Jon... and for Starfleet," Gardner added, equally amused. "Let's wait a minute. Shran will join us, too."

Right on cue, the door opened just a minute later and head nurse McFadden admitted a spit-and-polished Captain Shran, who was carrying a massive bouquet of flowers.

"Good morning," Shran said. "I believe it is custom to bring some of this colorful vegetation for recuperating persons."

"Wow," Erika said, taking the flowers from Shran. "They are lovely."

"It is good to see you, Captain. You look much better than last time."

"As if that is saying much," Erika snorted with a playful grin. "Last time I was almost dead."

"Indeed," Shran agreed. "You, Captain, fought like a true warrior. Every Andorian would be proud to serve under your command."

"Thank you Shran," she answered slightly blushing.

"Admiral," Shran said with a nod to Gardner. "I hope you are not offended that I greeted Captain Hernandez first."

"Don't worry, Shran," Gardner answered and indicated him to take a seat, while the head nurse took the flowers from Erika to put them in a vase. Once she had left the room, the briefing began.

"Jon, how are the SOP's coming?" Gardner asked.

"There's not much left to do. I think we will finish this week. The procedures are completed, but Tcherkassov insisted that we also develop training plans."

"Good man," Gardner said appreciatively. "Shran's and Dunsel's ships will be ready to test in two weeks. Once _Enterprise_ is back from Vulcan, I want to send them, _Columbia, Discovery_ and _Challenger_ on a training mission to evaluate these procedures."

"Something tells me that there's more to it," Jon speculated.

"There is," the admiral admitted. "A planet called Betazed has heard about our coalition talks and is interested to join the party. They feel threatened by unknown ship movements in their space. I want to send the four ships to investigate and protect the Betazoids if necessary."

"Shouldn't we send _Columbia_ right away?" Jon asked. " _Enterprise_ won't be back before September."

"The Vulcans have it covered for the time being. They've dispatched a fleet of 8 _D'Kyr_ class cruisers. We will rendezvous with them once _Enterprise_ is back. Minister T'Pau has expressed an interest in a joint mission. Time to test if we can really work together."

"Guess we have to speed up your training or find someone else to torture you," Jon said with a look to Erika.

"No Jon, we need you here. You are the only one, who has diplomatic **and** deep space experience. With Soval still on Xindus, we need you to keep the coalition talks going. Shran will command the mission."

"And the Vulcans agreed to that?"

"Yes. Minister T'Pau thinks it is time to make inter-species cooperation more than just a theoretical concept."

"Well, Shran, looks like you got your work cut out for you," John said, still slightly unsure about the prospect of Vulcans taking orders from an Andorian.

"We worked well with the _Ni'Vahr_ when I was still in the Imperial Guard. Now that I'm in Starfleet service, they will see me as the same as any human Captain. Sometimes their logic has its use."

"Ok, that'll be all," Gardner said. "Shran you come with me. I think we should leave Jon and Erika to whatever we interrupted."

=/\=

T'Pol entered the house to find it empty. Setting down her duffel, she went towards the back of the house and out to the backyard, where the voices of Trip and Malcolm could be heard. What she saw didn't do much to improve her mood. Both men were wearing shorts, their upper bodies bare and completely exposed to the scorching sun light. Nearby, Hoshi rested on a chair, wearing a two-piece garment that must have had been produced during a period of severe fabric shortage.

"It is not logical to expose yourselves to the sun light in that fashion," she ranted to no one in particular. "Such irresponsibility could cause harm to your skin on Earth. On Vulcan, such outcome is inevitable, especially now as it is the hot season."

Hoshi looked up from her spot on the deck chair.

"Hi, T'Pol. Don't worry, I got it covered," she said, holding up a bottle with an orange substance in it. "I got that in the Embassy together with the deck chairs and a few other things. It is designed specifically for the Vulcan sun light. Probably sun protection factor five thousand."

"I doubt that Trip would be attentive enough to apply it regularly," T'Pol said, still not completely mollified. She came to stand next to Hoshi, looking at the two working men.

"That's what I'm here for," Hoshi answered with a giggle. "Malcolm is not much better. I'm keeping an eye on them."

"Do we hear our names spoken in vain?" Malcolm asked, as the two men approached the women.

Trip approached T'Pol and planted a peck on her cheek.

"Come with me T'Pol?" he asked with a stern look that left no doubt about which one would be the correct answer.

Without any argument she followed him into the house.

"What was that?" Hoshi asked once they were gone.

"I'd say emergency meditation," Malcolm said. "When she arrived, something must have happened. Trip said she's po'ed like hell."

=/\=

For quite a while Trip had been sitting on the beach now, watching T'Pol angrily kicking up sand. The beach was a recent compromise. While T'Pol still preferred the white emptiness, she had quickly realized that Trip's emotional impact during joint meditations was much more supportive, when he was in a vista that fit his preference. As an added bonus she had noticed that the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore had a very calming effect on both of them.

"Tell me what happened?" he asked, once she had calmed down to her usual stance.

"There was an... incident during our arrival at the ship yards."

"A bit more specific? I could get that much when your anger blasted right through my shields," he dug further.

"When I requested permission to dock, the control officer replied in Vulcan."

Trip shot her an incredulous look. "That's it? You got your knickers in a twist, because a Vulcan spoke Vulcan to a Vulcan?"

"Trip. You know that we are not an expressive people. That means little gestures and seemingly banal actions can convey a most powerful message. "

"Ok, so they did it deliberately. I'm still not sure what it means. I would have thought it was a courtesy."

"That is what it was meant to look like, but in reality it was ostracism. Communication protocol demands that my request be answered in Human standard. By speaking in Vulcan, it was demonstrated that I was not acknowledged as a Starfleet officer. They also excluded the crew by using a language they do not know."

"All that by just breaking protocol," Trip said, shaking his head. "I'm starting to understand, why you were so hell-bent on following protocol when we shipped out for the first time."

"Vulcans are not the only race, where subtle gestures can cause offense."

"Ask Jon about the Kreetassans," Trip said with a laugh.

=/\=

"Hoshi, you must be joking," Malcolm grunted. "It's the middle of the bloody night!"

"No, it's 4am. We are guests in this house and we're supposed to make breakfast. Trip wasn't so keen on that, because he didn't want to get up at 4am, but now that T'Pol is here, we should honor tradition."

"Bloody, Norah," he grumbled, throwing the bed sheets back. "Don't tell me it is T'Pol banging that ridiculous gong."

"It is T'Pol," Hoshi answered, waiting for Malcolm to finish his half-asleep attempts to find the right holes to poke his arms through on his shirt.

"What's that all about? What's wrong with knocking on the door to wake us up?"

Hoshi rolled her eyes. "It's to chase nocturnal predators away, silly. Trip just didn't have to do that because we never got up before sunrise until T'Pol was here."

"Let's go," he said sleepily and followed her into the kitchen after a short stop at the bathroom for the morning hygiene.

=/\=

Coming back into the house, T'Pol took a quick look at Malcolm and Hoshi, who were working in the kitchen. Seeing Malcolm's pale face and the obvious tiredness on his features, she opened a drawer after a short exchange of "Good Mornings" with her guests. Taking out what looked like a tea bag, she dipped it into a cup of hot water and handed it to Malcolm.

"This should help you," she said.

"Thank you," Malcolm said. "I guess that is the Vulcan equivalent of coffee?"

"It's a herbal tea, used for Vulcan children. It is quite stimulating for Humans."

"T'Pol, can you give me some idea what to do with all this fruit?" Hoshi asked. "I've made some salad with ingredients we got from the Embassy, but I'm afraid I don't know much about Vulcan cuisine."

"I shall help you," T'Pol agreed and started explaining the different fruits and vegetables to Hoshi.

Several minutes later a gentle beep from a communication terminal in the main room indicated an incoming message.

"Would you mind taking the message?" T'Pol asked Hoshi while she kept washing fruit.

"What if it is private?"

"Then it would have arrived on the terminal in my meditation room."

Nodding her understanding, Hoshi went to the terminal and opened a message from the United Earth Embassy on Vulcan.

T'Pol and Malcolm knew that unfavorable news were coming, after several shrieking exclamations of "oh my god" and other, less repeatable, phrases could be heard from the terminal.

Coming back into the kitchen, Hoshi looked grim, with tear-filled eyes, while both T'Pol and Malcolm looked at her worried and expectant.

"Tolaris has been taken into custody. He will be put on trial for raping and battering T'Pol."

  
  



	15. Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Pau nearly wears a wig, Hoshi goes all banzai on Trip and Trip & Malcolm instill fear on the local Sehlat population...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the TNG episode "Measure of a Man"

Malcolm looked at T'Pol with an incredulous stare, lost for words. Only after several moments, he found the composure to ask what was on his mind.

"T'Pol, you were raped and didn't say a thing?" he asked, but T'Pol didn't answer and remained almost frozen.

"Not the way you would think," Trip interrupted, coming out of the bed room, which he shared with her. It didn't take much of Malcolm's imagination to guess, why Trip was coming out of there in this very moment. Seeing T'Pol in shock gave him a pretty good idea of the massive mental nudge Trip must have had received through that bond of theirs.

"I didn't expect you to say anything," Trip half asked, half stated in her direction, but T'Pol again remained apathetic.

"She didn't," Hoshi explained, still close to start crying. "We just learned about it. The embassy sent a message that Tolaris will be put on trial. The ambassador himself will come here in a few hours to give us the details."

"Except the Captain, Phlox and myself nobody knew about it," Trip mused in deep thought. "That can only mean it was Jon, who spilled the beans. Why the hell didn't he say a damn thing when we met at Jupiter Station?"

"First things first," Malcolm interrupted. "I can make sense of the battery. T'Pol didn't end up in sickbay for nothing. But what about the rape? What do you mean by 'not the way you think'? How many forms of rape are there and most importantly, why didn't I as the security officer get to know about it? That scum would never have made it off the ship alive!"

"I asked the Captain to send them away," T'Pol said when Malcolm's had completed his rant.

It were T'Pol's first words since Hoshi had brought back the news from the embassy and her voice was barely above a whisper. It didn't take a lot of intuition to see that she was reliving some very carefully repressed memories.

"I think it would be best to eat something first," Trip suggested in an attempt to buy T'Pol some time to regain composure. "This whole thing is not exactly a talk to be had on an empty stomach."

=/\=

The morning meal had gone by in complete silence. While T'Pol would normally see that as a sign of respect for her culture, the absence of the usual idle chatter reminded her that Malcolm and Hoshi were simply shocked into silence and Trip was too busy to say anything. All through the meal she had felt the gentle caress of his mind in hers as he waded through the emotional torrent that flooded her, seeking for emotions he could safely take on himself.

Thankfully Malcolm and Hoshi had mainly tried to avoid looking directly at her or Trip or they would have seen his veins bulge on his temples and the occasional tear in his eyes as he tried to help her cope with the devastating mixture of pain and rage.

After all had finished eating, she noticed the expectant looks of Malcolm and Hoshi and decided that it was not logical to defer the talk any longer.

"What happened to me was not rape in the way humans would define it," T'Pol began vaguely. "Tolaris proposed a mind-meld and I initially agreed."

"With 'initially' meaning that this willingness expired throughout the procedure," Malcolm speculated. His carefully maintained neutral and clipped voice told her clearly that he put up the professional facade of a security officer to hide his displeasure about not being informed about it earlier.

"When he started to access parts of my mind that I was shielding and flooded my consciousness with unbidden thoughts and emotions I urged him to stop, but he continued the meld forcibly."

Hoshi slung her arms around her own body as if the temperature had dropped to below freezing, reminding T'Pol that she wasn't the only person in the room, whose mind had been violated. Hoshis ordeal on the Reptilian ship was probably the closest any Human had ever come to the agony she had felt after Tolaris' attack.

Slinging his arm around Hoshi to console her, Malcolm asked the question that kept him busy since he learned of all this.

"Why didn't you tell any of us? And how in the name of all that's holy could the Captain just send them away without doing anything?"

"It may be difficult to understand from today’s perspective, but at the time I had participated in an activity that most Vulcans considered deviant. By the official doctrine of the time, all damages that had been inflicted, I had brought on myself."

"Damages?" Malcolm asked back.

"Tolaris did not only perform the meld by force, but also ineptly. I was infected with _Pa'nar_ Syndrome, a debilitating and ultimately fatal neurological disease."

"Bloody Norah!" Malcolm exclaimed and even his eyes started to get moist. Hoshi looked so pale that T'Pol started to doubt the wisdom of continuing this conversation in Hoshi's presence."

"Can... can it be cured?" Hoshi asked in a breaking voice.

"At the time, the government insisted that there was no cure. Doctor Phlox managed to delay the onset of the disease, but his attempts to find further information almost lead to my removal from Enterprise."

"The IME conference at Dekendi Three," Malcolm guessed.

"Indeed. Under a false pretense Dr. Phlox tried to find out further details from Vulcan members of the conference. They logically deduced that it was me, who was infected as I was the only Vulcan aboard. Only due to a selfless act of self-incrimination by Dr. Yuris could my recall be averted, which retroactively proved Captain Archers wisdom in not making this incident publicly known to be the right choice. I know that it went against his strongest beliefs to let Tolaris go unpunished."

"Is there a cure now?" Hoshi asked again.

"Yes," T'Pol said with a nod. "Contrary to the falsehoods propagated by V'Las' government, the disease can be cured by a properly performed mind-meld. Minister T'Pau performed the procedure during our time in the Forge."

"I think, I'm starting to get the picture," Malcolm said. "Do you think that putting him on trial now is a good idea?"

"The prospect of divulging the details of this incident in public is disconcerting, but the thought of Tolaris in freedom on Vulcan is even more unbearable."

=/\=

A heavy knock on the door announced the arrival of their distinguished guest. As was written in the embassy message, Ambassador Garth himself was going to inform them about the details of the upcoming trial.

When Trip opened the door however, there were two hooded figures, who put back the hoods of their cloaks, revealing the ambassador's companion to be Minister T'Pau herself. If the leader of the High Council made an appearance, this whole trial did not look set to be just a historical footnote.

Quickly forming his right hand into the _Ta'al_ he greeted their guests and indicated them to enter the house.

"Minister, Ambassador," T'Pol greeted, visibly confused by T'Pau's presence.

"It is agreeable to see you again," T'Pau replied.

"Guess, we'll take our leave," Malcolm offered.

"That won't be necessary," Ambassador Garth said. "I think both your and Lieutenant Sato's presence might be helpful."

Slightly confused, both Malcolm and Hoshi stayed.

"Are all persons aware of the charges against Mr. Tolaris?" Garth asked, receiving affirmative responses from everyone.

"Upon return of the _Vahklas_ Tolaris was apprehended by Vulcan security forces and turned over to United Earth custody. The office of the Judge Advocate General has charged him with rape and battery of Captain T'Pol of Vulcan and battery of Commodore Jonathan Archer."

"That's good to hear," Trip said.

"Minister T'Pau has informed me that the matter at hand is extremely private in Vulcan society, which is why the trial will be held here on Vulcan to avoid too much publicity."

"Something tells me, there's a hook somewhere," Malcolm suspected and Trip rolled his eyes about Mal's instinctive skepticism.

"I'm afraid, you're right Commander," the Ambassador replied carefully. Vulcan has permitted this trial on a condition. The number of outsiders has to be kept at a minimum, which rules out more JAG personnel except for the judge."

"You wouldn't!" Malcolm shouted and shot up as if something had bitten him in the backside. He angrily paced the living room. “You, bloody can't!”

"Mal?" Trip asked. "Care to tell us what's wrong?"

"Did you miss your legal training at the academy or something?" Malcolm spat angrily. "With no JAG personnel at hand, this trial is a case for article 87. In that case both plaintiff and defense will be represented by serving officers."

Trip and Hoshi looked at him in shock.

"T'Pol is the victim and you, Trip, are her mate, so you're considered biased. Which leaves me and Hoshi as the highest ranking officers who know the details. That means I'll be representing T'Pol and Commodore Archer and Hoshi will be expected to defend the scum bag."

"You can't be serious!" Trip growled.

Malcolm didn't answer, but Ambassador Garth did.

"Commander Reed’s assessment is mostly correct. As a result of the coalition talks a recent amendment to Article 87 states that in case of involvement of a non-human under Earth jurisdiction, these tasks can also be taken on by legally trained personnel of the respective home world. Captain T'Pol and Commodore Archer will be represented by Minister T'Pau and the frankly unenviable task of legal counsel for the accused will fall to Commander Reed. Ambassador Soval will temporarily return from New Xindus as a witness."

"You can't expect me to agree to that, Sir!" Malcolm refused.

"I'm afraid that is the only option we have," Garth answered. "We have no complete legal staff at the embassy, so taking the situation of the Vulcans into account; the only available options are you and Lieutenant Sato."

"Have you any idea what you're asking of me?"

"Commander Reed," T'Pau spoke for the first time. "I was told that you are a most professional officer. What is it that would make it impossible for you to take this assignment?"

"Does it not strike you as unusual that Hoshi and I happen to be here?" he asked, showing uncharacteristically open frustration. "For all I know about Vulcans, casual invitations are not exactly common practice. Trip and T'Pol are our friends, the closest ones we have. You are asking me to speak for someone, who assaulted two people, who I respect very much. I'm expected to try reducing or even averting the punishment of someone who committed one of the most grievous acts against a friend of mine."

"With the proper professional detachment, it should be possible to..."

"Minister!" Malcolm interrupted her rudely. "I have no doubt in my professionalism, in fact I actually dread it. I couldn't live with myself if that man went free, because I was 'professional'."

T'Pau looked at him with no more expression than an inquisitively raised eyebrow.

"If I leave details unexplored that may speak against T'Pol and for the accused, the judgment would be challenged. If I do put them in the open, he might be acquitted or at least part of the blame may be put on the victim, not to mention the humiliation T'Pol might have to endure. I'm not sure I can resolve that conflict."

"You can," T'Pol said, standing up and coming to a halt directly facing Malcolm. "You are a most professional officer and your indulgence is the only option of making this trial a reality. If you decline, he will go free regardless, but if you accept there is at least the chance to issue just punishment. Refusal is not logical."

Malcolm looked at her almost pleadingly.

"I will not hold you responsible for the outcome," T'Pol said. "Please, Malcolm."

=/\=

Malcolm entered the dark corridor within the Embassy that housed the three holding cells. Snorting silently, he thought that humanity might not be in the best of shapes, if they built their first extraterrestrial Embassy with holding cells included. But for the moment it was good that they existed.

Handing a PADD to one of the guards, he demanded: "I'm Commander Malcolm Reed. Bring the prisoner into the interrogation room."

Standing with his back leaning on the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest Malcolm watched how the prisoner was brought in. He had his arms shackled with what looked like a device capable of immobilizing a buffalo and Malcolm had to remind himself that, when it came to physical strength, the Vulcan could well be one. He found it quite disturbing to look into the face of a Vulcan, who displayed visible signs of disdain.

"Listen," Malcolm began and fought down a snort at the thought that he was probably the least emotional being in this room at this moment. "I'm Commander Malcolm Reed and I have been assigned to you as your legal counsel. I think you're guilty as sin, but in my capacity as your legal representative, I'll have to explore each and every avenue that speaks in your favor."

"This is none of your business," Tolaris answered with what felt to Malcolm like a threatening calm. "What would you know about Vulcans?"

"What I know and don't know is none of **your** business. Suffice to say my expertise is extensive enough to know, not to assault the mind of one. I want to hear your recollection of the events – and save any psychotic drivel. Just give me the facts."

=/\=

Malcolm came out of the room in a state of shock. The way Tolaris had recollected his thoughts, intentions and actions made him physically sick. It was the psychotic babble of a pathological stalker and rapist and even more sickeningly, the diatribe of his unwanted client had had a distinctive sexual undercurrent. It didn't take a warp specialist to know that T'Pol's mind was meant to be only a first part of her to be violently abused. While that was probably more than enough to nail the bastard to the wall, it threatened to turn his stomach that he was now forced to consider the possibility that Tolaris wasn't exactly firing on all thrusters, meaning he could possibly evade punishment in favor of a place in a padded cell and he was the man forced to try to make it happen.

He almost bumped into the figure standing in the corridor – Trip.

"Hi Mal, how did it go?"

"You know that I can't talk to you about that," Malcolm answered.

"Come on, Mal, it's not like you'll win this case," Trip said and his irritation was obvious to Malcolm. "What do you want to prove with this? Is that why you and Hoshi moved to the Embassy quarters?"

Malcolm let out a sigh. "Which part of this bloody arrangement is so hard to understand for you? No matter how much I dislike it, I've been assigned to defend that man and if I make a hash of it, this whole trial will collapse before it begins. Which would mean he goes free. If word would get around that I'm staying at the victim’s home, we could just as well unroll the red carpet for him to go and rape the next girl."

"Well for a job you dislike, you're putting quite an effort into it," Trip spat.

"Do you think I like this?" Malcolm spat back, getting angry, too. "Giving him a fair trial is the only chance to punish him. If the judge rules that I have been biased or worked against the defendant, he'll send us all home, including the scum bag in there."

"Suit yourself," Trip growled and stalked off.

"Brilliant, bloody brilliant," Malcolm sighed.

=/\=

When Rear Admiral Santos de Oliveira entered the room, all attending persons stood up.

"In this court, convened on August 17th, 2155 in the Embassy of United Earth on Vulcan, we hear the case of United Earth Starfleet against Tolaris of Vulcan, son of T'Nera, son of Sokat. The plaintiffs are represented by First Minister T'Pau of Vulcan, the defendant is represented by Commander Malcolm Reed. Chairman is Rear Admiral Joao Sebastiao Santos de Oliveira. Lay assessors are Lieutenant Commander Anna Hess and Minister Kuvak of Vulcan."

All people sat down, once the judge had done so.

"The prosecution will now read the charges against the accused," the judge ordered.

Hoshi watched the proceedings from the visitor ranks, which was an almost sarcastic name, considering that she was the only person in the room, who wasn't either part of the court proceedings or a witness. She quietly admired the fact that T'Pau had even opted to wear a black human court dress and she had to fight a smile, trying to imagine what the Vulcan would have looked like, if Earth still used the white wigs of old times.

Next to her sat Trip, staring into the distance with a fierce scowl. As much as Hoshi wanted to throttle him for the unfair anger he had unleashed on Malcolm, she hoped that their friendship would survive this ordeal.

"Your honor," T'Pau began. "The accused is charged with rape, battery and malicious injury by negligence of Captain T'Pol of Vulcan and battery of Commodore Jonathan Archer. On the day of December the 28th in the year 2151, according to Earth's calculation of time, the accused initiated a mind-meld with Subcommander T'Pol of Vulcan, who was assigned to the Earth vessel _Enterprise_. Although the mind-meld was initiated with the consent of Subcommander T'Pol, the accused continued the procedure forcibly, when he was asked to stop the mind-meld. Not only did his forcible continuation of the mind-meld cause injury to Subcommander T'Pol's neuro-pathways, it also led to an infection with _Pan'ar_ Syndrome. On the next day the accused was confronted by Captain Jonathan Archer, who banned him from any further contact with Subcommander T'Pol. In an attempt to forcibly circumvent this ban, he assaulted Captain Jonathan Archer, leading to minor injuries and bruises."

Having ended her speech, T'Pau sat down again.

"Both Earth and Vulcan authorities have ruled that, since Captain T'Pol, who was a Subcommander at the time of the incident, was under Earth command at the time. The incident falls therefore under Earth jurisdiction. It is therefore irrelevant that she held a Vulcan rank at the time. I propose that, to avoid any confusion, we should use Captain T'Pol's current rank throughout this hearing. Any objections?"

Both T'Pau and Malcolm did not object the judge's proposal.

"I call the accused to the stand," the judge ordered and delivered the instructions about false statements, both sworn and unsworn and the possible consequences.

"Mr. Tolaris, you have heard the charges against you. What do you have to say in your defense?"

"You all do not understand," Tolaris ranted with the fervor of a religious leader. "T'Pol was repressed and in a crucial stage of her awakening. She needed my guidance."

"Minister T'Pau, your witness," the judge ordered.

=/\=

Trip felt dizzy and sick. More than once T'Pol had mentally begged him to raise his shields, but he refused to budge. As long as the torrent of emotions in T'Pol's mind was somehow manageable, he was hell-bent on lessening her burden. The raw emotions radiating off the madly ranting Tolaris made the task even more difficult. If he, who possessed only minor telepathic abilities, could pick up the sickening torrent of sexual greed and possessiveness in Tolaris' mind, the thought of how it must affect people with such acute mental faculties like those of T'Pol or T'Pau added further strain on his stomach.

And now Malcolm made it even worse...

"Captain," Malcolm opened his questioning of T'Pol. "Is it true that the accused told you to forgo meditation and you complied?"

"Yes."

"What was the result of this indulgence?"

"I had... dreams. They were of unsettling nature."

"Did you cease the experiments?"

"No. Doctor Phlox encouraged me to not give up after a first attempt, but also warned me to 'go slow' as he described it. I was initially determined to cease the practice, but I allowed Tolaris to 'talk me into it'."

"I have never known you to be someone, who is easily talked into something," Malcolm said. "You had served with us a good portion of a year at the time and only two people were able to change your mind about something – Commander Tucker and occasionally the Captain. How come that a stranger, whom you've had known for less than two days could convince you to break so many social rules of Vulcan society? Those rules may have been rescinded since then, but they were still official doctrine at the time. "

Trip's nostril flared as he sucked in what felt like half the chamber's air with a sharp inhale. He felt, how someone grabbed his hand, squeezing it forcefully. He looked to the right – straight into Hoshi's face. She wore the most menacing scowl he'd ever seen on the petite officer's face and her head-shake was a clear signal to forget whatever he was about to do.

"I was... curious," T'Pol admitted. "I had a need to... to acquire more knowledge about emotions."

"Was that an attempt to understand humans better?"

"That was part of the consideration."

"What about the other part?" Malcolm asked. "Did your developing friendship with Commander Tucker influence your decision?"

"That's a low blow, asshole!" Trip screamed and shot up from his seat.

"Silence!" the judge intervened. "Commander Tucker, if you interrupt the court proceedings again, you will be suspended."

"What'm'a s'posed ta do? Sittin' here on ma butt watch'n how ma wife's bein' put through the fuckin' wringer?" he shouted, falling into a hideous drawl as all emotional dams broke.

Before the judge could voice the suspension, Trip felt three fingers on his neck just before the lights went out.

"He refused to raise his shields," T'Pol explained from the witness stand.

A nod signaled Soval's understanding as he picked up the fallen Commander, whom he had just incapacitated.

"It would be prudent to turn Commander Tucker over into medical care," Soval addressed the judge.

"Granted," the judge agreed. "But I expect you to return immediately, Ambassador. You are still a witness in this trial."

"Agreed."

"I'll stay with him," Hoshi volunteered and followed Soval out of the court room. Turning around she looked at Malcolm, who wore an almost depressive frown.

=/\=

"Doctor Phlox," T'Pau opened after being given permission to question the witness. "You have treated Captain T'Pol after the assault. Since she has exempted you from your oath of confidentiality; Can you tell us, what sort of injuries your patient had suffered?"

"Captain T'Pol suffered from a substantial neurological overload. Her neuro-pathways were hyper-stimulated substantially."

"You worked on Vulcan for more than 20 years as a member of the Interspecies Medical Exchange. Had you seen such injuries before?"

"Yes," Phlox agreed. "Captain T'Pol's injuries were comparable to those sustained by Vulcans, who were subjected to torture in Andorian captivity."

"What is your conclusion from these findings?"

"From personal experience during the Vulcan crisis, when Ambassador Soval was tortured by Andorians, we know that they use forceful intrusion into the mind of their victims to acquire information. It was therefore the logical conclusion from today’s perspective that Captain T'Pol's mind had been brutally invaded."

"Are you saying that the assault was conducted with the force of Andorian torture devices?" T'Pau asked doubtfully.

"Maybe not equally forceful," Phlox admitted. "But the severity of Captain T'Pol's injuries leads me to suspect that the attacker possessed exceptionally strong telepathic abilities."

"What logic do you base your suspicion on?"

"I have observed Commander Tucker before his outburst. It was plainly visible that he was very unwell during the questioning of Tolaris. Commander Tucker's telepathic abilities, which he started to acquire in hard training, are almost negligible compared to those of a Vulcan. Yet he seemed to be disturbed by emotions radiating off the accused during the questioning."

"I can attest to that," Kuvak agreed with visible unease. "The accused was broadcasting most powerful and disturbing emotions during his testimony."

"His telepathic abilities appear to be strong enough to reach a weak telepath," Phlox continued. "It stands to suspect that he might be able to influence the mind of others."

"That is a serious accusation," T'Pau replied. "Can you substantiate that suspicion with facts?"

"I could not until Commander Reed's questioning, but I believe he provided the 'missing piece of the puzzle', as my human shipmates would say. The observation that Captain T'Pol rarely changes her mind is a quite accurate one. Although we are connected in certain ways, being the only aliens among more than 80 humans, I've never managed to change Captain T'Pol's mind other than in small inconsequential matters. For her to break rules that are taught to Vulcans since early childhood on advice by a complete stranger appears extremely uncharacteristic to say the least.

"You suspect that the accused coerced her into compliance by telepathic influence?" T'Pau asked.

"I am certain of it," Phlox replied. "I urge this court to have the mental capabilities of the accused evaluated and I am sure that you will find him capable of forcing himself unto others from a distance."

T'Pau turned to the judge.

"Your honor, I hereby request that the accused be subjected to a medical evaluation of his telepathic abilities."

"Granted," the judge ruled. "This court is adjourned. We will reconvene in three hours."

=/\=

Hoshi paced the little stretch of floor behind the privacy screen, which hid the still unconscious Commander Tucker from public view.

"You know, I'd really like to wring your neck," Hoshi ranted to her unconscious friend. "Mal did it for T'Pol and all you can come up with is giving him shit!"

Predictably, no answer was forthcoming.

"What a great friend you are," she hissed angrily. "What was he supposed to do? Say no and let that asshole go free?"

Silence.

"Know one thing, Trip Tucker," she ranted with a breaking voice and pointed her finger at the unresponsive figure on the biobed. "If you destroy this friendship, I'll... I'll..."

Succumbing to tears of loss and frustration Hoshi plopped down on the chair beside the biobed and rested her head on Trip's chest, letting the tears flow. "This friendship means so much to him..."

She didn't notice the hand that was slowly raised and started stroking her hair gingerly.

=/\=

"The session is reopened," the judge ruled. "I call Dr. Sertak of Vulcan to the stand."

After delivering the speech on false statements for the umpteenth time that day, the judge gave T'Pau permission to question the witness.

"Dr. Sertak. What result did your evaluation come to?"

"We evaluated the mental capabilities of Tolaris and came to the conclusion that his mental faculties are among the strongest in recorded medical history."

"Would such strength be sufficient to implant his -own thoughts into the mind of others?"

"No," the doctor disagreed. "Even the strongest telepaths on Vulcan would never be able to achieve that. However, the force of his mind is strong enough to influence the processing of emotions."

"Explain," T'Pau demanded. "Would such a strong mind be able to influence decisions?"

"Most certainly. A mind as adeptly attuned to telepathic contact as Tolaris's can create or mask powerful emotions like doubt, fear or anger. All these emotions influence our thoughts, even though we loathe admitting it."

"If I may interrupt," the judge jumped in. "If the telepathic abilities of the accused are that strong, how can we be sure that none of us is acting under his influence?"

"Except for a few individuals, Humans do not readily adapt or respond to telepathy," Dr. Sertak explained. "When I reviewed the recordings of the earlier sessions it was plainly visible that Commander Tucker possesses certain telepathic skills as does Lieutenant Sato. Both of them appeared in emotional turmoil."

"What about the Vulcans?" the judge asked.

"As is standard procedure, Tolaris was fitted with a neural suppressing device when he was apprehended."

"He was given a telepathy jamming device?" Anna Hess, the second lay assessor, asked.

"A simplified, but fitting comparison," the doctor agreed. "While it was certainly successful in preventing any telepathic influence on other persons minds, the fact that the accused still was able to broadcast his negative emotions in a way that influenced even weak telepaths like the two human witnesses is testament to the immense potential of his telepathic abilities."

"Your witness," the judge said and indicated T'Pau to continue.

"Doctor Sertak. After her experience with unsettling images in her sleep Captain T'Pol decided to cease any emotional experiments, despite Doctor Phlox's well-intentioned encouragement and warnings. As per her testimony the accused managed to convince her to continue the practice during a short conversation. Would the accused be able to have influenced that decision in his favor?"

"He most certainly did," the witness replied. "We have the testimony of her ship mates that such spontaneous change of opinion is most unusual. Furthermore her decision to cease the practice was based on agitation and doubt as a result of her 'dreams'. Such powerful emotions can only be suppressed by meditation or application of the routines of _kohlinaar_ , none of which had occurred at the time. It is therefore the logical conclusion that the accused has masked out both doubt and fear and stimulated her curiosity. Captain T'Pol admitted that her wish to gain more knowledge in order to further her attachment to Commander Tucker played a part in the decision. The accused was most certainly aware of these tendencies, which gave him a most convenient starting point to manipulate Captain T'Pol's emotional state."

"He cannot have her!" Tolaris growled.

"Silence!" the judge demanded.

"She's MINE! I awoke her! She's MINE!" the UT translated Tolaris' hiss while the Vulcan lunged forward.

Before he knew what hit him, three fingers on his neck restored silence as he fell forward.

All Vulcans in attendance stared at Malcolm.

"Where did you acquire the technique?" T'Pau asked.

"You don't want to know."

Malcolm was startled by Commodore Archers chuckle and only then realized that he had used one of Hoshi's catch phrases. Shrugging with a sheepish grin he sat back on his chair.

"This court is adjourned," the judge ruled.

=/\=

Jonathan Archer looked around the court room as the session was about to resume. He felt deeply sorry for his former bridge officers. The picture of a pale Trip on a biobed consoling a crying Hoshi Sato had disturbed him more than he expected and the other two officers did not seem to fare any better.

Only someone, who had served with her for four years, could see the strain on T'Pol. Her nostrils were flaring and she fidgeted. He couldn't begin to imagine, what she was going through. Having one's private thoughts and love life being dragged into the open would be hard to take for a human and Jon decided not to try to imagine, what that did to a Vulcan.

His look went over to Malcolm and his former security officer did not seem any better than T'Pol. If there was any human, who could come close to a Vulcan's emotional control, it was Malcolm Reed, but faced with what must be the worst assignment of his life, even the Brit’s calm was gone. The scowl and the empty stare were clear signs that the last two days had taken a heavy toll.

"The session is reopened," the judge announced. "Before I deliver the verdict, I recall Doctor Sertak to the stand."

"Doctor, you have examined the mental state of the accused. Has your examination led to any findings regarding the criminal responsibility of the accused?"

"The accused has practically no control over his emotions. The medical examination, however, did not show any signs of _Pan'ar_ Syndrome or _Bendii_ Syndrome. The logical conclusion is therefore that the accused has willfully eradicated his emotional control and there is no logical reason to question the his full responsibility for his actions."

"Thank you Doctor," the judge said and waited for Sertak to return to his seat in the auditorium.

"Minister T'Pau, Commander Reed, please deliver your pleas."

=/\=

"On behalf of the United Earth people and the people of Vulcan, the following judgment is pronounced. The accused, Tolaris of Vulcan, is guilty as charged of two cases of battery according to United Earth law and malicious injury by negligence for the infection of Captain T'Pol with _Pan'ar_ syndrome. By publicly expressing his claims to Captain T'Pol despite her bonded relationship to Commander Tucker, which he is aware of, he is guilty of willful malicious interference with a mating bond according to Vulcan law. As per Vulcan-Earth accords of January 10th 2131 this breach of foreign law is considered a crime as per Earth law. The charges of rape are dropped as the mental intrusion does not constitute rape as defined in Earth law. Vulcan law demands the death penalty for the malicious interference with a mating bond, which however has been abolished on Earth. The accused is therefore sentenced to life imprisonment without parole. In the interest of the his health he will serve his sentence in a Vulcan penal facility and he is hereby delivered into custody of the Vulcan Security forces."

=/\=

"I must admit Minister, these robes fit you very well," Jon said with a smile as he joined T'Pau after the conclusion of the court session.

"Thank you, Commodore. For a human ritual a court session appears to be surprisingly logical, if somewhat circumstantial."

"Would it have been shorter on Vulcan?"

"Indeed. May I inquire about the health of your mate?"

"She is recovering well. I never had the chance to thank you for the help of your physicians. Without them Erika might have lost her eyesight permanently."

"It was a logical decision. Considering that Starfleet saved us from war with Andoria twice, saving the vision of a Starfleet officer is the least we could do."

"Commodore Archer?" a young Ensign called from the far end of the corridor.

"Coming!" Jon answered and turned back to T'Pau. "I have to go. I've got a recovering mate waiting for me on Earth. It was nice to meet you again, Minister."

"As it was to meet you, Commodore. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life, Minister."

=/\=

After almost two days of meditation to recover from the emotional strain that the trial had put on her, T'Pol walked into the United Earth Embassy and saw a morose looking Hoshi in the lobby.

"Hi T'Pol," Hoshi sighed. "Feeling better?"

"I am well, but you do not appear to be well."

"I'm fine, sort of," she answered. "But Malcolm isn't. He's barely spoken since the trial. He really took it hard."

"So did Trip," T'Pol agreed. "He tries to hide it, but he is deeply saddened by the events."

"We must do something," Hoshi pleaded.

"Agreed."

=/\=

Entering the code, she walked into the quarters in the Embassy and found Malcolm sitting on a chair, staring out of the window. She doubted that he had missed the hiss of the closing door, so he seemed to ignore her entrance completely. Those thoughts were interrupted, when her keen hearing picked up the sound of quiet sobbing – Malcolm was crying.

=/\=

Feeling her hand on his shoulder, Malcolm covered it with his own, still staring at the landscape through tear-filled eyes.

Suddenly it hit him that the hand on his shoulder was not the delicate one of Hoshi. Whipping his head around he looked straight into the face of T'Pol. Instinctively retracting his hand from hers, he jumped up and hastily wiped his eyes to get rid of the tears.

"I... I'm sorry," he stuttered, not specifying whether he referred to the accidental touch or the tears.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Malcolm," she said and to his utter shock she took his hands in hers. "If anything, it should be me to ask forgiveness. It is most disagreeable to see you in such distress."

"It wasn't you, who gave me that bloody assignment," he replied bitterly.

"No, but I urged you to accept it."

"I shouldn't have dug into your private life like that in public, I'm so sorry," he sighed and hung his head.

"I knew what I had to expect," T'Pol disagreed. "Had you not disclosed so many details, Phlox would not have come to the conclusion to have Tolaris' telepathic abilities examined. That is the sole reason for my acquittal from any guilt for the initial indulgence in the mind-meld."

"Maybe you should tell Trip that," he answered sadly. "He still thinks I tried to blame it all on you."

"I already did," Hoshi said and Malcolm looked over to see her leaning on the wall next to the door.

Self-consciously he looked down at his hands, which were still held by those of T'Pol, and then back to Hoshi, who wore a big smile. Obviously she did not mind it.

"Now look at you two," Hoshi said, still smiling. "Instead of endlessly apologizing to each other, we should think about how we get our two blockheads to make up."

"Can we skip the kissing part?" Malcolm asked with a teary smile.

=/\=

Trip sat in the backyard of their home, feeling morose. While he was glad that Hoshi and Malcolm had returned to stay with them, vacating their temporary home at the Embassy, he had no idea how to ease the massive tension that was still evident between Malcolm and him.

They had interacted little throughout the day and the few exchanged words had been spoken more formally than ever between them. Even before their adventure in Shuttlepod One there had been a more relaxed atmosphere.

Although he knew that he had been utterly unfair to Malcolm, even more so after Hoshi had explained that Malcolm had single-handedly freed T'Pol of any blame, he found himself completely tongue-tied and at a loss for words or ideas of how to broach the subject of a suitable apology.

Before he could brood any further, he noticed a furious looking Hoshi approaching the table at which he and Malcolm had been sitting for an hour, being silent at each other.

With loud thuds Hoshi slammed two bottles of beer onto the table.

"Listen boys," she said forcefully. "T'Pol and I are going to visit the fire-plains and when we come back you better have talked this out, got me?"

"Aye, ma'am," both Trip and Malcolm answered, staring bewildered at her.

"Don't 'aye ma'am' me. Unless you fancy sleeping in the doghouse or probably _sehlat_ -house for you Mister," she said, pointing at Trip. "You better have made up by the time we come back."

With that she turned around and walked off, leaving two befuddled males in her wake.

Before she walked back into the house, she stopped and turned to them: "Skip the kissing part, Trip. That's my job!"

Trip, still looking at her, did not understand why Malcolm started laughing hysterically, but it was nice to hear in any case.

"She's a trip and a half, isn't she," Malcolm said, opening the bottles.

=/\=

It was already dark outside when T'Pol and Hoshi walked into the atrium.

"Do you think they've come around?" Hoshi asked, slightly worried by the complete absence of any voices from the backyard.

"It appears so," T'Pol said coming to an abrupt stop in the door, causing Hoshi to bump into her.

"Oh dear," Hoshi giggled, when she saw what caused T'Pol's sudden stop.

Trip and Malcolm sat next to each other on the bench surrounded by more than a dozen empty bottles. Malcolm had his arm wrapped around Trips shoulder, his head had rolled back and he was snoring loudly at the sky. Trip's head had fallen on Malcolm's shoulder and he, too, snored soundly.

"Should we wake them up?" Hoshi asked in a hushed voice.

"No. They appear to be... comfortable."

"What about predators?" Hoshi asked.

"Considering their audible display, it will be the _Sehlats_ who fear for themselves," T'Pol delivered dead-pan and put one of the lamps on the table before following a giggling Hoshi back into the house.

  
  



	16. Absit Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls treat the guys to a rather special sight seeing, but desaster is always just around the corner...

„Now would be a good time to lend a hand,“ Trip said teasingly, tilting his head towards the atrium, where a topless Hoshi applied some of that orange 'super sun cream' to her bare torso.

“I think she manages just fine,” Malcolm replied evenly and added a few more plastic chips to the pile. “Just concentrate on your hand. If we'd be playing for real credits, you'd have to sell your grandmother by now.”

The men sat in the living room, playing a friendly round of poker. After their 'not-kiss-because Hoshi-said-so and make up' evening three days ago it was the first time their stomachs hadn't revolved at the thought of a cool beer, so they had grabbed some and sat down in the cool dwelling for a bottle and a nice game of cards. Who knew when the next downtime would come. 

Much to their surprise, two days ago Hoshi had decided that although her bikinis where skimpy enough to be smaller than their washing labels to begin with, ditching the bikini top was an even better idea – not that either of them was complaining, especially Malcolm. 

“I didn't even know Asians actually did get a tan,” Trip said. 

“What do you think their skin is made of – leather?” Malcolm said with a snicker. “Back in the day, when my parents moved to Malaysia, there were people, who could have passed for Africans.”

Trip laughed and demanded two new cards, when T'Pol passed by in a light summer robe. Malcolm decided to return some of Trip's earlier ribbing once T'Pol was out of even Vulcan earshot. 

“Hm, never seen this type of robes before.”

“It's the hot season, Mal,” Trip replied, not looking up from his cards, indicating for a new one. 

“We had this myth for centuries whether or not the Scots wear anything beneath their quilts. Do Vulcans wear anything...., you know, beneath?”

Trip just shrugged wordlessly.

“Come on,” Malcolm insisted. “Don't tell me you don't know!”

“You just keep guessing about that and find an answer to this – Royal Flush,” Trip announced and presented his cards to a sour looking Malcolm before collecting the pile of chips. 

Neither of them had noticed T'Pol's return into the house. 

“You have spent the last two days almost exclusively inside,” T'Pol said. “Does that have to do with Hoshi's decision to rest with incomplete attire or the after effects of your drinking?”

“No problem with Hoshi for me,” Malcolm quipped casually. 

“That would imply it is one for Trip,” T'Pol noted.

Malcolm felt a pang of sadistic glee seeing Trip's eyes widen and how his friend quickly grabbed the bottle of beer to buy himself some time, so he thought it was time administer him a good ol' rollicking as usually it was himself who ended up in awkward situations. Now it was time for Trip to taste some of that. 

“Look, T'Pol,” he lectured. “Hoshi is my fiance and you are his, so in theory he's not supposed to be aroused by seeing Hoshi in the nude, but the male human brain isn't exactly wired to ignore a half-naked female, especially if she's as good looking as Hoshi,” he said, keeping an eye on Trip, who still ferociously tried to suck the contents out of the bottle in as small swigs as possible. 

T'Pol raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 

“But don't worry, the awkwardness will subside after a few days,” Malcolm assured her 'benevolently'. “We're all friends after all.”

T'Pol sent a stern look towards Trip, who immediately put the bottle down, before turning her attention back to Malcolm. 

“Would you suffer the same predicament, if I undressed?” she asked.

Malcolm ejected the triumphant winners swig of beer he had just taken through his nose and coughed violently. 

“There's your answer, darlin', ” Trip said with a healthy dose of Schadenfreude. 

“I suspect the awkwardness will subside for him, too?” T'Pol asked Trip. 

“Sure thing,” Trip said. 

Without another word, T'Pol unclasped her robe and it fell to the floor, answering Malcolm's earlier question by revealing that she wore absolutely nothing beneath it and she walked out to occupy the second desk chair next to Hoshi. 

Malcolm sat motionless, looking absolutely dumbfounded. 

The two men saw but couldn't hear Hoshi and T'Pol converse for a while, before Hoshi threw her head back in hysterical laughter and a few moments later she abandoned the bikini bottom to restore symmetry in the deck char park. 

“Dug yourself a nice hole, buddy,” Trip laughed. “Just so you know; I cannot get aroused by seeing Hoshi naked, courtesy of being bonded to the most beautiful Vulcan ever. Still a nice view, mind you, but it doesn't do anything for my hormones. I resisted three Orion women, you forgot that already?”

Malcolm looked at him, still somewhat bewildered. 

Trip was still laughing. “Y'know, T'Pol kept her robe on until now because of you, but you've just given her the perfect excuse to repel it.”

“She planned to get naked anyways?” Malcolm croaked.

“Of course,” Trip explained, still grinning about Malcolms crushing defeat. “She took a liking to skinny dipping and just lying around in the sun, when we were at my parents. And beside; it's hot season around here. Vulcans cannot sweat. Well they can, theoretically, but when they start sweating they're short of passing out already. Their bodies have evolved to preserve water at all cost and sweating is an extreme strain on the body – sort of like a last-ditch effort, so before losing water by having too many clothes on, they just go with light robes or in some cases even naked. Vulcan kids rarely wear anything in temperatures like today. Why do you think the walls around Vulcan homes are almost as high as the actual houses and why there are no multi-story buildings in residential areas?”

“You knew all that beforehand, didn't you?” Malcolm asked. 

“Yep, mate. I only stayed inside, because with that darn hangover, the light outside was way too loud. Now enjoy the view. I'm pretty sure Hoshi will appreciate all the pent-up UST,” he teased. “And the sound proofing is excellent in this house, so deal the next round, man.”

“You are incorrigible,” Malcolm complained, but couldn't contain a snicker.

=/\=

Trip carefully approached the deck chair. Hoshi was dozing on it as she had done so often during the last days since the trial. Dozing in the sun sometimes with, sometimes without T'Pol, after 40 Eridiani had dipped far enough below the zenith had quickly become a favorite pastime of hers. Feeling safe behind the high walls of T'Pol's estate, she had removed her Bikini, which hung over the arm rest of her chair.

Trip cleared his throat loudly enough to wake her up.

Shooting up from her chair, Hoshi instinctively covered her bare chest with her hands, completely forgetting that she wasn't wearing a bottom piece either, which prompted an amused chuckle from Trip. _Somehow this instinctive reflex must be hard-wired into female brains across the universe_ , he decided. She had been dozing stark naked in the evening sun for almost a week without the slightest bit of self-consciousness and in full view of all the house's inhabitants, so this sort of reflex was more hilarious than helpful, but then even T'Pol still crossed her hands over her chest sometimes during nightly neuro-pressure sessions.

"Not that I don't admire the view," Trip teased her. "But unless you want to give the crew something to look at, you might wanna jump into a uniform. We're leaving in an hour."

"Oh my god," Hoshi said, hurriedly donning the bikini. "I haven't even packed. Why didn't anyone say something?"

"Don't worry, Hoshi. Malcolm has already packed your stuff. He didn't want to wake you up. Maybe you being in plain view for him from your room had anything to do with it."

Still grinning mischievously Trip went back into the house.

"You two are impossible!" Hoshi complained with a giggle and threw a cushion after him.

=/\=

As the airlock opened after docking their shuttle at the _T'Kuth_ ship yards the four returning visitors were greeted by Lorian.

"Mother, Father, I hope you found time to rest after the ordeal at the trial?"

"Nothing a bit of extra meditation and a healthy sun tan can't cure, son," Trip replied, causing himself and Malcolm to chuckle. Both got a mock-menacing 'one more word, Mister'-look from Hoshi.

Seeing Lorian’s confused look, he added: "Everything's fine. How have things been up here?"

"I've taken the liberty of supervising repairs on both ships and I can report that _Enterprise_ is in perfect condition.“

"Your boat?" Trip asked

"Hull reconstruction is nearly complete, but it will take at least a further 6 weeks until _Endurance_ is in serviceable condition again."

"Gotta hand it to the Vulcans," Trip said with an admiring whistle. "120 years in the Expanse and they patch it up in less than 3 months."

"Indeed," Lorian agreed. "Using their lower need for rest, Vulcan crews have worked 24 hour shifts."

Continuing their way towards _Enterprise_ 's docking port, Trip continued to ask Lorian for details.

"How's your crew coming? Have they assigned the new people to complete the crew?"

"Yes. Several members of the returning ship _Vahklas_ have decided to apply for service in Starfleet. We have been assigned 5 of those crew members. Another batch of young crewmen has been dispatched from Earth. They are expected to arrive within the week."

"Is Kov on your ship, too?"

"He is now my chief engineer. Unfortunately I was not allowed to retain that position, when I was assigned command of the ship."

"He's a good man," Trip said as they reached the docking port. "You coming for dinner tonight?"

"I asked your Chef to prepare a meal for four. I didn't think it was appropriate to invite myself."

"You're our son, remember?" Trip said with a laugh. "I'll tell Chef to add two more. Please bring Kov, will ya."

"As you wish."

=/\=

Trip walked into Engineering on auto-pilot, reading a PADD with engineering reports. Looking up, he met a number of amused looking armory crewmen and let out a sigh.

"Dammit," he swore under his breath.

"Got lost Commander?" Malcolm asked with a smirk.

"Very funny," he answered slightly annoyed and turned to leave. "Guess it'll take a few more days to get used to it."

During the last two days he had walked into the former engineering chamber several times, only to meet the amused looking armory crewmen. What had been engineering was now part of Malcolm's realm and it was filled to the brim with new Mark-III torpedoes.

=/\=

"Still catching up, Trip?" Anna asked as she strolled into his office, once he had actually found it.

"Yeah; Bless the Vulcans, they're brilliant engineers, but I think they all have a bad case of OCD."

Anna laughed softly.

"Look at it," Trip continued and waved one of the PADDs. "They've taken stock and documented every single bolt and welding wire. It'll take me until retirement to read all this."

"Let me help," Anna said and sorted through the PADDs on Trips desk. After some searching she had picked out three of them and handed them to Trip.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Lorian prepared a summary review of all those," she said, waving her hand over the stack of PADDs cluttering his desk.

"That's my boy," Trip said with a grin and started to read the summaries.

=/\=

Healer Gratev stumbled out of his laboratory. Only a few moments ago the loudest explosion he had ever heard had pierced one of his eardrums, leaving a small trickle of blood oozing out of his right ear. Expecting yet another unfortunate accident in the nearby Dilithium mines, he had grabbed his medical kit, ignoring the stabbing pain in his ear. Nothing had prepared him for what he saw out on the street.

The first thing he noticed was the heat. Even at the height of summer it had never been this hot and it seemed to get hotter and hotter. A group of soldiers ran towards him and as was Gratev's habit, he did not really pay any attention if they were government troops or rebels. As a healer he had patched up combatants from both side of the conflict. With the mind-numbing pain in his ear and his vision blurred by the growing heat he just waited. The soldiers did not look like being in need of medical assistance.

"Are you a healer?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Yes," Gratev answered.

"We must seek shelter, now!"

"Basement," Gratev managed to utter before one solder each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him along.

"What happened?" the healer asked, once the group had reached the basement below his laboratory.

"We don't know," the leader answered. Gratev did not know much about the military, but the sheer number of symbols on his epaulettes made it clear that he was the most senior of the soldiers.

"You are injured," one of the soldiers noticed. "I'm a field medic, let me look at your ear."

=/\=

Phlox entered the bridge with a distinctly bad feeling. It was rare enough that he was included in a staff meeting and even more seldom had those meetings been summoned without prior notice. When he entered the ready room the other officers were already there.

"Coridan Prime has been attacked," T'Pol started without preamble. The room fell silent.

"Do we know who?" Trip asked.

"We have only limited information so far. Apparently most of the planet’s surface has been incinerated. The fire was fulled by the extensive Dilithium deposits."

"Dilithium doesn't burn just like that," Trip said, shaking his head. "You'd need a whole shipload of antimatter to blow up a whole deposit."

"Speculation does not serve any purpose," T'Pol refused. "We have been ordered to rendezvous with _Columbia, Challenger_ and _Discovery_ at Wolf 359. We shall investigate and provide any help to the survivors on Coridan Prime. Doctor Phlox, assemble all personnel with medical training and coordinate with the medical officers on the other ships."

"Yes, Captain."

"Commander Tucker, Commander Reed, assemble all non-essential personnel and assign them to rescue teams. The ship will be manned by a skeleton crew while in orbit."

"With all due respect, Captain," Malcolm interrupted. "Isn't it too risky to leave the ship with minimum personnel? Whoever attacked the planet could still be out there or return to finish what they started."

"A detachment of Andorian battle cruisers will join us in orbit around Coridan. They are ill-equipped to mount a rescue mission, but they are more than adequate to provide defensive cover."

=/\=

Seeing Hoshi crouched down near one of the huge tents that engineering crews had erected to serve as a field hospital, Trip ran over and put his arms around her to keep her from falling over. With a pained gagging sound she emptied the measly contents of her stomach onto the ground.

"I can't," she whimpered. "I need to get a away..."

Trip tried not to sigh. He knew exactly what Hoshi was talking about. The tent was overflowing with Coridanites, who had fallen victim to the fire storm that had turned most of the planet's surface into a smoking pile of ashes. As far as his eyes could see there was nothing but burnt stumps where once a lush forest had been and any sort of settlement had been reduced to a collection of burnt-out hollow shells. While that was enough to rattle a person, the real horror was the horrid stench of charred flesh and decaying corpses that poisoned most of the planet’s atmosphere.

He slung Hoshi's arm over his shoulder as he helped the staggering girl to walk towards a smaller tent. Grabbing a cloth from a table near the entry, he gently wiped the remnants of vomit off Hoshi's face and helped her to get 'comfortable' on a make-shift biobed. Basically it was just a stretcher with 4 rods welded to it to serve as legs, but it was the best they could do with the limited resources. Vulcan had dispatched several freighters with emergency supplies, but even though Vulcan freighters were capable of speeds in excess of warp 4, it would still take them another 36 hours to reach Coridan.

Without needing any instruction to do so, a young crewman came over and put an oxygen mask over Hoshi's face. Freed from the horrible miasma and breathing clear air for the first time in over a day, Hoshi calmed visibly, but her empty stare, which had gained the infamous name "thousand yards stare" in Earth's more savage history, made it clear that Hoshi was in bad shape.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. He whipped his head around and looked straight at T'Pol's face.

"How's it going in here?" he asked, exhaustion clearly showing on his features.

"I am trying to counsel the crewmen to the best of my abilities."

"You're doing fine, darlin'," he said quietly enough to escape the hearing of any bystanders. He had noticed her insecurity about counseling distressed humans, but T'Pol had done a marvelous job so far. With Vulcans' inherent problems with physical contact, she wasn't well-suited to help Phlox's teams, but with her ability to absorb and suppress emotions at least for a time, she was surprisingly effective in caring for the crew members, who had succumbed to the distress of the horrid situation.

"Your confidence in my abilities honors me," T'Pol admitted when she picked up his surface thoughts. "But I do not know how much longer I can function."

Her outright admission, which was still a rather rare occurrence, set off the warning bells in his mind. Realizing that she hadn't meditated in almost two days, he acted quickly and opened his communicator.

"Tucker to _Enterprise_!"

" _Enterprise_ here," came the reply of Lieutenant Rao.

"Lock on to Captain T'Pol and transport her up. She's to be left undisturbed for at least 3 hours."

"Acknowledged."

Trip noticed the strong wave of anger and irritation in the bond. Obviously she didn't care much for his decision to exert more authority than his rank allowed him to.

"Exactly that's why you're now going up and will meditate the hell outta yourself until you've gotten rid of the stress. You just went straight through my shields with your rampant emotions," he said in a tone that made sure she knew that he wasn't open to negotiation. "You may be the Captain, but you're also my wife. I'm not standing by to see you fall apart. We need you at your best."

Before she could deliver a reply, she dissolved in the glittering light of a matter transport and was gone.

"I'm taking over here," Trip said to the two crewmen, who had watched the scene from a respectful distance.

=/\=

Captain Sopek disembarked from the shuttle and took a look at the scene. He had just escorted a convoy of freighters to Coridan. With grudging respect he looked at the provisional landing site the humans had constructed. Not only had they cleared a huge area, they had built a lot of provisional landing pads for inbound and outbound shuttles and erected a structure overlooking the area, from which they coordinated the approaching and departing shuttles.

It had been three years since his last visit to this planet. Only a selfless act of Subcommander T'Pol was responsible that he was still alive. At the time the humans had been a most disagreeable disruption. Their main achievements at the time consisted of a destroyed monastery and skirmishes with species like the Suliban, who until then had been a minor footnote in the quadrant.

Since then the humans had started to claim their place in the intergalactic diplomatic spectrum and even most conservative and skeptical Vulcans like himself had to admit that they could not be dismissed any longer. Whether it was the truce at _Paan Mokar_ , the discovery of Surak's original writings, the successful defense against the Romulan drone ships or the rescue of Ambassador Soval from rogue Andorians, the humans had always been involved in a decisive fashion.

His thoughts were interrupted by an approaching human officer.

"Captain Sopek, if I'm not mistaken?" the human asked. Looking at the rank insignia, Sopek identified him as a Starfleet Commander.

"Indeed."

"I'm Commander Malcolm Reed. If you would please follow me. We're standing right in approach vector Three-Alpha."

Following the human, Sopek tried to get an overview of the frantic action. Shuttles of human, Andorian, Vulcan and Coridan origin were approaching and departing in a dangerously high frequency. Such a low separation between vessels would be considered an irrationally high risk, but somehow the humans had managed to devise a method of making such dangerous flying reasonably safe. Sopek wondered if that was the reason why the humans had asked all Vulcan shuttles to identify themselves by the prefix "Desert" followed by a unique ordinal number they were assigned by the humans.

He winced slightly as the creak of a metal door caused discomfort to his sensible hearing. Too occupied with the scenery, he hadn't noticed that the human had led him to the provisional structure they had erected in the middle of the area. It was a most simplistic building with metal scaffolding serving as a skeleton, while the walls and roof were made of metal sheets. A long ladder led up to a sort of platform.

"It isn't very comfortable, I'm afraid," the human said apologetically. "But that was the best we could do in the short time."

"Do not concern yourself," Sopek answered, climbing up after his guide. "I am sure it serves its purpose adequately."

Once he reached and stepped onto the platform, he was momentarily disorientated by the many voices.

"Desert 42, cleared to land at pad 20, caution departing Snowflake 45 on pad 19... Blueball 15 cleared to depart, fly departure vector Gamma-5, climb to 2000 meters, contact _Discovery_ control on frequency 117 mark 3... Snowflake 45, climb to 5000 meters, caution approaching Desert 42 at bearing 090..."

Twelve humans were sitting at makeshift tables, juggling little pieces of paper around. Each of them wore an earpiece with a microphone attached and they all spoke simultaneously making it hard to follow one’s own thoughts. He noticed how the human indicated him to follow into a small compartment, which was separated from the rest of the platform by a sliding door.

"I suppose that was a bit overwhelming for your hearing," the human apologized.

"Indeed," Sopek agreed. "Could you explain the purpose of the unusual communication?"

"It's shorthand, designed to convey as much information with as little words as possible."

"Fascinating," Sopek said. Obviously in time of need, the humans could indeed see the advantages of efficiency.

"The call-sign Desert is used by Vulcan shuttles, Snowflake are the Andorians, Blueball are our shuttles and the few surviving Corridan shuttles use Miner as their call-sign. That way we can immediately tell what sort of shuttle we're dealing with in terms of speed, size and maneuverability, enabling us to route them accordingly, even if we can't see them."

"A most efficient approach. Why did you ask for my presence here?"

"Vulcans are good with numbers," Malcolm explained. "We need to get shuttles in and out of here as quickly as possible. Once a shuttle has landed, the cargo has to be transferred to a different shuttle and that one has to be sent out on the double. Air traffic control is working just fine, but we're hitting our limit at keeping track of which cargo is coming in and which continent it has to be sent to. Nobody can process that much data better than a Vulcan."

Sopek felt as if his whole view on the galaxy was being inverted. Not only were the humans much more efficient than the now disbanded High Command had ever given them credit for, they appeared to be perfectly willing to concede Vulcan superiority in certain areas.

"You wish us to take over the logistic coordination?" Sopek asked.

"It would be a great help," Malcolm said with a nod.

"It is only logical to offer all help we can give. I shall assemble a task force immediately."

"Thank you," Malcolm said and pointed at a young human female in the neighboring room. This is Ensign Dahl, she will provide all pertinent information for your team.

"Acknowledged."

=/\=

T'Pol blew out the candle after a much needed meditation. Ever since Trip had ignored her authority and transported her back to the ship three days ago, she had made the return to the ship a daily routine. She knew that Trip had been right and she had used her acquiescence as a bargaining tool to get him to sleep at least every 24 hours. They had settled into a working routine. While she tried to counsel distressed members of the rescue parties, Trip was trying to coordinate all the efforts on the continent. Since _Enterprise's_ crew had taken over the _Tessen_ continent, which was by far the largest on Coridan, the Vulcans and Andorians had volunteered all non-essential personnel, which left her with the unique task to counsel specimens of four different species.

She had to suppress an amused snort at the mental picture of someone like former administrator V'Las seeing a Vulcan female in a human uniform consoling a distressed Andorian. While the sheer dimension of suffering on Coridan was almost too much to bear, it showed once again that in times of extreme peril most humanoids cast aside all their animosities and worked together for a common good.

She materialized on the surface and walked straight into the tent that housed the make-shift counseling station. A familiar sight awaited her. Humans on their knees, hands folded in front of their chest, were engaged in silent pleas to a deity, Vulcans tried to calm themselves in deep meditation, but alarmingly, the number of people falling into helpless apathy was rising by the day. Two Vulcans had fallen into a healing trance and even one Andorian had been so overwhelmed that he was just lying on a stretcher, staring into the void – completely detached from reality.

 _Two more days,_ she thought. That had been the latest information from Starfleet command. Ten human freighters were expected to reach Coridan within 48 hours, carrying hundreds of trained search and rescue personnel. Two more days before the unprepared Starfleet crews were released from the most horrifying mission they had ever faced.

"Where is Malcolm?" T'Pol asked a very tired looking Trip, who had 'run the shop' for the duration of her meditation break.

"He'll be here in about an hour," Trip reported and handed her a PADD with the latest information about the new cases.

"Who is that?" she asked, pointing at a Coridanite, who spoke to one of the native patients.

"A healer named Gratev. Shran's crew pulled him from a partially collapsed basement in _Cordas_. Phlox patched him up and he volunteered to help. He's a healer after all."

"I see. You..."

"I know," Trip interrupted with a sigh. "I'm off to bed."

He slumped down on a nearby stretcher and was asleep almost immediately. Ignoring protocol, T'Pol pushed a strand of hair aside and gently kissed his forehead.

"Sleep well, _Ashayam._ "

=/\=

Trip waited at the airlock overseeing the return of the last crew members to the ship. They all looked ragged and tired. The six days on Coridan had taken their toll on the crews of _Enterprise_ and other ships. Considering that many of the crew were battle-hardened survivors of the Xindi mission, he didn't really want to imagine the impact of the mission on fresh and unproven crews like those of _Discovery_ and _Challenger._

The temporary fleet commander, Captain Shran, had ordered the four ships back to Earth in accordance to Starfleet’s instructions.

Once all were on board, he closed the airlock and reported to the bridge that _Enterprise_ was ready to go. T'Pol acknowledged his report and he made his way back to their quarters to wait for T'Pol's return.

=/\=

T'Pol let out a low moan, when Trip pushed his thumbs forcefully into her neural nodes. Never ever had she been so in knots, but considering the last few days it wasn't really surprising, so he silently continued his efforts to alleviate her discomfort.

"What did Gardner say?" he asked after a while.

"We will spend a week in Earth orbit. Crew members in need will be provided with counseling at Starfleet medical, while senior staff will be debriefed about the situation on Coridan. The option of a senior officer in need of counseling did obviously play no role in Starfleets plans."

Immediately the picture of a barely responsive Hoshi sprang to his mind. She was still sedated in sickbay.

"Except for Hoshi, most senior officers seemed to take it rather well," he tried to calm her.

"I am definitely not well."

Trip was startled. This seemed to turn into a pattern. Usually she was loathe to admit to weaknesses, but lately T'Pol had been rather vocal in communicating her problems. Trip wasn't sure if that was a repeat of her straightforward approach she had adopted when talking to his parents or if the burden had become so heavy that she simply didn't bother to hide it anymore .

"I'll talk to Gardner, when we're home. I think it would help if we spent two or three days with my folks. I'm sure they can give you much better counseling than some shrinks at Medical. Malcolm wants to take Hoshi to Japan. One of her brothers is a shinto priest."

"Do your parents have a professional background in counseling?"

"No, they're just really compassionate people. And they learned the hard way how to help people after the Xindi attack."

"This might not be possible. When my debriefings conclude, yours will only start."

"Where's the problem?" he asked and stopped the neuropressure in favor of a good old human massage. "You go to my folks and I join you when my meetings are over."

She turned her head back, looking at him in confusion. "I doubt that it would be appropriate to presume on their hospitality without your presence."

"What's that got to do with anything? You're family, T'Pol. My mom will kick my sorry butt to Jupiter, if we're on Earth and she doesn't get to see you."

"Your mother would wish to see me, even if you are absent? We are not yet legally married."

"That doesn't interest her the least bit. She knows that our marriage is only a formality. You're the daughter-in-law they've been waiting for since Dave, Lizzie and me left the house."

Wordlessly T'Pol nodded her understanding, while Trip silently kept up his gentle ministrations.

=/\=

"Hey Trip," Malcolm called out in the corridor of Starfleet headquarters.

"Hi, Mal. How's Hoshi?"

"She's a bit better, but still not talking much. I wanted to take her to Japan, but I'm tied up in meetings for at least three more days. I was sure Jijii could have gotten her out of her shell."

"Tell you what," Trip offered. "My meetings don't start before tomorrow. Why don't I take Hoshi to her folks?"

"Sounds good," Malcolm said and fished a small PADD from his pocket. "This is the address. I'll inform her parents to meet you at the airport at Osaka."

"You were there with her before the _Orpheus_ raid, weren't you?" Trip asked.

"Yes, why?"

"I seem to have a bit of pull with Gardner. He granted T'Pol and me free use of shuttle pod two. Could I set down somewhere near their place? I don't think that Hoshi is up to public transport."

"You're the man, Trip," Malcolm said happily. "You can set down in their back yard. Just make sure you point the bow towards the house. The thrusters could do some damage to their stone garden and they spent ten generations on cultivating it. "

"I'll keep it in mind. If you get hold of Mattes, please tell him that we need a new keg."

"I'll do, Trip. Hoshi is in room 204. Thanks mate."

"No problem, Mal. See you tomorrow."

=/\=

Charles Tucker jr. looked out of the window – no change. T'Pol was still sitting on the beach staring into the distance. Contrary to her last visit, the wooden gate in the large fence, which shielded the small beach from inquisitive views, was open.

Both he and his wife had been happy to see T'Pol again, but that joy soon turned into worry, when they noticed that T'Pol was even more subdued than usual. Only through gentle probing had they gotten her to open up.

News agencies had delivered reports of a tragedy on a planet called Coridan Prime and that Earth ships were helping with search and rescue efforts. Although the Tuckers had more than ample experience with seeing such horror in the aftermath of the Xindi attack, nothing had prepared them for the sheer magnitude of the horror. Five hundred million dead, a whole planet incinerated. This made the Xindi attack look like a kids birthday party. And those poor young people had been thrown right into the aftermath of it. No wonder T'Pol was so devastated.

Cathryn had run off to the church in order to light candles and offer prayers for the victims as well as the rescuers and considering that this had been two hours ago, she seemed adamant to pray for each of them personally.

Seeing that T'Pol was sitting on the sand with bent knees, rather than her Indian style pose, he doubted that she was meditating. The way she slung her arms around herself could only mean that she was cold. Even though it was only fall, the weather the last days had been rather chilly.

Grabbing one of his winter coats from a hook in the corridor, he went out to look after her and decided to do what he had done in a devastated Florida so many times – play it by the ear and see if he could lend a helping hand and a listening ear.

=/\=

T'Pol felt a thick jacket being draped over her shoulders. Looking up she saw Charles Jr, smiling at her.

"Thank you," she whispered and continued to stare out at sea, while Charles took a seat next to her.

"Difficult to forget, isn't it," he said and looked out at the sea, too.

"I doubt that these pictures will ever leave me," she admitted. "But that is not what concerns me."

"What is it?"

"When I started counseling distressed crew members, I was nearly... overwhelmed by the magnitude of their suffering. After several days I became almost indifferent to the fate of my charges. I performed my tasks with no more compassion than handling an engineering review. I became the dispassionate, cold being that humans have accused Vulcans of being for so long."

"So you're hatin' yourself for what you've become."

"Yes," she admitted tersely, fighting the instinct to reply that Vulcans were incapable of experiencing hate, because they were capable of hating.

"Remember what you told us about your first days on _Enterprise?_ How you were afraid of dealing with 80 humans and their pesky emotions?"

T'Pol nodded and kept her look straight out on the sea.

"That were 80 humans in a normal mood. Over there you had to deal with humans, who were close to bein' done in by their emotions. And you didn't only deal with them, you helped them. That's not only a very compassionate, that's a damn brave thing to do, T'Pol."

"I should not have allowed myself to become so detached from the personal fate of the charges I was dealing with," she maintained in stubborn self-reproach.

"Happened to me, too," Charles admitted and T'Pol looked at him in surprise. "After the Xindi hit us we did pretty much the same as you guys did on Coridan. Cath kept herself occupied by cooking day and night for the survivors and the rescue teams. For me as an engineer there wasn't much to do, so I became the world’s most unlikely counselor. It was hell for the first few days until I managed to distance myself from the people I was dealing with. Hell, I didn't even ask their names after a few more days – I was there for them, listened, cried with them and gave them a shoulder to lean on. To do the job I had to distance myself from their personal fate. I couldn't ask them if they had lost a child, like we did or if they lost their whole family. I wouldn't have lasted a week if I had taken on all that emotional baggage."

"So, it is a normal reaction?" T'Pol asked.

"Sounds pretty normal to me," Charles agreed. "Did you help them any worse when you didn't pay attention to who the person was?"

"My efficiency seemed not to decrease."

"That's what I thought. The compassion was still there, but your mind protected itself. You got nothing to blame yourself for, T'Pol."

"Thank you, Charles," she whispered. Somehow she felt great relief by being absolved from any blame by her _Adun_ 's parent.

=/\=

Trip did a double take and walked out on the beach. He could only see them from behind, but the two figures sitting in the sand were unmistakably T'Pol and his dad. She had his winter coat draped over her shoulders and was leaning heavily on him with her head resting on his dad's shoulder – definitely not a sight he had expected.

"Dad?" he asked to make his approach known.

"Shhh," his Dad hissed. "Not so loud, she's sleeping. I wasn't sure how she'd react to me carryin' her in, so if you have an idea? I feel every bone in my body."

"S'ok Dad. She sleeps like a rock. What happened?" Trip asked while hoisting T'Pol up in his arms.

"Tuck her in first," Charles suggested while trying to stand up without wincing too loudly.

=/\=

"What was wrong," Trip asked after he had put T'Pol to bed.

"She was beatin' herself up over becoming 'too cold' after a few days of counseling," Charles answered and handed Trip a beer as they took a seat on the porch.

"So that's what she's been hiding," Trip muttered.

"Looks like she didn't sleep too well either," Charles mentioned. "Once I had her convinced that it was a perfectly normal thing, she passed out."

"Guess I didn't pay too much attention lately," Trip admitted morosely. "I was too busy burying myself in work."

"Wasn't like you were dealing with a mild head-ache. Hell, half a billion dead..."

"Sure," Trip grunted and took a frighteningly big swig of the beer.

"Son, if what you told us about that bond of yours is true, I think T'Pol could use your presence in that bed right now."

"Just let me wind down a bit and finish that beer, dad. Thanks for helping T'Pol."

"T'was nothing son."

=/\=

"Trip has left?" T'Pol asked when she entered the kitchen the next morning.

"Yeah, he had to return to San Francisco for more meetings. Good thing he managed to sneak out for the night or I'd still be your pillow on the beach," Charles said with a chuckle, while he offered her a chair at the breakfast table.

"I regret your discomfort," T'Pol said.

"Don't worry T'Pol. As long as it wasn't unbearable, I just didn't want to disturb you. With Vulcans bein' so sensitive to touch I was just worried to upset you if I tried to carry you to the house."

"Although I do not plan to allow such lapse to repeat itself, you may rest assured that it would not have upset me. You are part of my family, even if our marriage has not been formalized yet," she explained parroting Trip's words. Only the day before she had finally realized the truth of these words.

"We're honored," Cathryn chimed in, while shoveling salad to T'Pol's plate. "But how can that be? You only met us for the second time and unlike Trip we don't have any mental connection with you."

"Trip informed me that you would have been most displeased if you had been denied the opportunity to meet me while we are on Earth."

"He got that right," Cathryn answered with a smile.

"That means, your emotions towards me are mainly of a caring nature. Therefore it is logical that they would not upset me, even if I would sense them due to physical contact. And for a species with acute senses as ours, olfactory sensations play an important role. Your scent is very similar to that of Trip. That would allow me to identify you as family members even if I was partially incapacitated."

"We're glad you're feelin' at home here," Charles said and 'abused' the newly found permission to touch her by taking her hand, smiling warmly at her.

"Let's eat," Cathryn suggested and T'Pol waited patiently while her _Adun_ 's parents folded their hands and expressed silent gratification to their deity.

Halfway into their meal they were interrupted by an incessant beep from a communication terminal. Charles Jr. reached behind him and pushed a button to accept the call. The grim face of Commander Reed appeared on the screen.

"Mrs Tucker, Mr. Tucker, Captain," he greeted with a court nod. "Captain T'Pol, you must pack with all haste. Lieutenant Maywheather will come for you within the hour. All crew members have been recalled."

"What happened, Commander?" T'Pol asked.

"Space station Salem One has been attacked and seized."

  
  



	17. Cry Havoc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An obscure station has been seized. Our heroes must prove their mettle in their first major battle...

After saying goodbye to her human hosts, T'Pol walked out of the house towards shuttle pod 2, which was just landing on a field near the Tucker residence. The hatch opened and she stepped inside.

"Welcome back, Captain," Travis said and her answer was a silent nod.

As she moved to take a seat, she saw Hoshi sitting in the shuttle. Her friend looked pale, but otherwise much more alive than when she had left for Japan.

"How are you?" she asked while Lieutenant Maywheather ran through the take-off check-list.

"I'm better. Jijii is a miracle worker. It will take some time, until I get over it completely, but I'm fit."

"When we return to the ship, please report to Doctor Phlox."

"I'm really better," Hoshi insisted.

"I believe you. But Starfleet Medical requested to see all distressed personnel. Either Phlox clears you for duty or I would have to order you to report to Medical. I do prefer the first option."

"So do I," Hoshi agreed with a smile. "I'll pay Phlox a visit."

=/\=

"Good Lord," Trip said as he came into the new armory area that was once engineering. "One direct hit and we'll be scattered all over the galaxy!"

"Looks like it, doesn't it," Malcolm said. "But I can assure you, it's safe. Those torpedoes cannot be armed outside the launching tubes."

"Are we trying to chase a few pirates off a space station or are we trying to start an interstellar war here? That must be – what – three hundred of 'em?"

"Actually these are two hundred Mark-II and one hundred and fifty seven Mark-III torpedoes."

"Interstellar war it is then," Trip sighed.

"I don't think we're going up against pirates," Malcolm explained. "Salem One is a heavily fortified facility. Their defensive armament is better than what we had, when we shipped out to _Qo'nos_. We didn't exactly throw with pebbles back then, did we?"

"Why would that thing be a floating battle ship? It can hardly be of much importance, else we would've heard of it before now."

"It's not exactly a place that Starfleet is likely to advertise. Word is that it doesn't only host Coalition races and some of those outsiders are keen to keep their involvement a secret. Details about it are somewhat sketchy, but it is said to engage in a lot of research. Knowing some of the Starfleet types, not all of it is legal or entirely ethical."

"Why don't I feel like asking you where that information came from?" Trip asked sarcastically.

"Because you're smart enough to know that it didn't come from the morning papers," Malcolm delivered drily.

"Those babies any good?" Trip asked and pointed at a Mark III torpedo.

"Remember, when we accidentally put a slight dent in that asteroid?"

"You mean, when we tested the phase cannons for the first time and the system overloaded?" Trip asked, snorting about Malcolm's typical understatement.

"Yes," Malcolm answered with a nod. "What happened back then would be a failure with these things. A triple salvo on full spread and you can shave off half a mountain range."

"You can rapid-fire them?"

"Up to three," Malcolm explained. "See these connectors?"

Trip nodded.

"You put three in the launcher and they are armed automatically as soon as they are in. That way you can fire three torpedoes in rapid sequence or 3 single shots without having to reload."

"I don't like it," Trip said grumpily.

"What is there not to like about better defensive capabilities?" Malcolm asked in disbelief.

"If it wasn't for T'Pol and me tinkering with the engines beyond duty hours, we would still be at warp 5.0, but when it comes to weapons, they churn out a new generation every six months. It's all about war, war, war."

"I see where you're coming from," Malcolm said. "But the fact remains that the Romulans are out there looking for an opportunity to strike. I'd be surprised if it isn't them, who await us at Salem One."

"Nice," Trip grumbled.

=/\=

_One week later…_

Shran inspected the attendance. Since _Discovery_ 's situation room was too small for four Captains, their first Officers, tactical officers and respective MACO detachment leaders, the meeting was hosted in an empty cargo bay.

"Starfleet command has sent the latest reconnaissance reports. A group of eight _D'Kyr_ class vessels is hiding in a nebula near Salem One. They are monitoring the situation on long range sensors. Their readings match the signatures of 8 Romulan war-birds and several unknown freighters, believed to be of Romulan Origin as well."

"Why don't the Vulcans attack?" Colonel Frei, the Swiss MACO CO of _Challenger_ , asked.

" _D'Kyr_ class vessels are equipped for patrol and reconnaissance missions," T'Pol explained. "They lack the fire power, necessary to engage two war-birds, let alone eight."

"But they could come in handy," Malcolm said.

"You have a suggestion, Commander?" Shran asked.

"If we can include the Vulcans in our formation we're twelve against eight. The Captains of _Discovery_ and _Enterprise_ have extensive space warfare experience, so I would suggest we split into two groups, led by _Discovery_ and _Enterprise_ with _Columbia_ and _Challenger_ as wing-men. Each of the two groups is joined by four _D'Kyr_ vessels, who act as stingers."

"I'm afraid, I'm not familiar with all these terms," Dunsel admitted.

 _Discovery_ and _Enterprise_ are the lead ships. They operate independently. _Columbia_ is the wingman of _Enterprise_ and flies in formation. Both ships back up each other and attack in a concerted effort. The same goes for _Discovery_ and _Challenger._

"I think my helmsman is quite an ace," Captain Fletcher interrupted. "But I don't think that formation flying with NX-class ships was part of the training at the academy."

"With formation flight, I don't actually mean synchronized flight," Malcolm clarified. "Our communications officer, Lieutenant Sato has created a set of routines to synchronize helm and tactical consoles between two ships. You will all receive the upload after this meeting. Helm console of the wingman ship will display the projected path of the lead ship – your helmsman will have to figure out the rest. The same goes for tactical. You will receive target coordinates in real-time, but you'll have to figure out what to do with them yourself."

"That's quite a task for unproven personnel," Shran said.

"We don't have many alternatives, but I think that people tend to learn to swim pretty quickly, if you kick them into a pool full of sharks," Malcolm replied. "Four years ago we went out so green behind the ears, we needed mowing. We learned in a hurry. Our people are good, no matter how much experience they have. You, Captain, and Captain T'Pol have to do the rest by clever leading."

"What about the station?" Shran asked. "It is said to be quite heavily armed."

"It's largely of human design, which is why we know its weaknesses." Malcolm said. "We can rig _Enterprise_ 's deflector dish to send a massive EM pulse, which should short out every system on the station for at least an hour. That's when our wingman ship comes in. While we do that, we won't have shields, so they'll have to cover our behinds."

"Wouldn't that short out systems on our ships, too?" Dunsel asked.

"No; Captain Shran's battle group could draw the enemy away from the station, while we separate and target the station. You'll all still have your shields."

"That still leaves your ship disabled," Shran warned.

"Not necessarily," Malcolm corrected. " _Enterprise_ is the only ship in the fleet that has mechanical backup instruments – the old T-layout of historical air planes - and we have people, who can fly using stick and rudder."

Malcolm projected a picture onto one of the walls and the people in the cargo bay looked dumbfounded.

"Attitude indicator, artificial horizon, vertical speed indicator – that's all we need. Visuals will be provided by good old-fashioned cameras, which are scattered around the ships hull. Since armoury has its own sheltered backup systems, they won't be affected by an EM pulse."

"How come that no other ship has these backup systems?" Julia Fletcher asked.

"Because Starfleet didn't install them," Malcolm explained. "We built and installed them ourselves. Over the last four years we lost control of helm or tactical several times, simply because some computers were down. So we installed a fail-safe system. You could install the system on just about any ship, but you'll hardly find helmsmen, who can fly with them or tactical officers, who can shoot with nothing but cross-hairs. We have both."

"Have you ever used those backup instruments?" Shran's first officer, Commander Nguyen, asked.

"Only in simulations," Malcolm said. "They were installed only a few weeks ago during the refit."

"I thought something like that," Nguyen, _Challenger_ 's science and first officer, said. "For these mechanical devices to work, you'd have to disable the inertial dampers on your ship. You could kill a lot of your crew doing that!"

All eyes were on Malcolm, but the experienced tactician shot Nguyen a triumphant smile.

"Nothing personal against you, Commander; you are surely a good scientist, but you're lacking something that we on Enterprise have in abundance – experience. From your statement I can tell that you've never flown your ship from the battle bridge?"

"Why should we?" Shran asked in defence of his first officer. "Why should we fly the ship from an emergency bridge, if we have a perfectly serviceable one with more sophisticated equipment? I wonder why your Captain hasn't yet dismissed this idea as illogical."

"I did not, because it is indeed a logical proposition." T'Pol said. "Commander Reed's suggestion is sound. The battle bridge might have less sophisticated equipment, but several factors make it the preferred option over the main bridge in battle as its name clearly suggests."

She called up a schematic of the refitted _Enterprise_ and explained: "The main bridge is on top of the saucer section and therefore easy to target for enemy weapons. It is also at the outer perimeter of the energy shields, while the battle bridge in the secondary hull is almost at the center of the energy field and can therefore only be hit if the opponent manages to disable both the shields and the hull plating. I believe it is easy to see the logic in preferring to use the battle bridge in combat."

"Which brings us back to your question, Commander Nguyen," Malcolm took over. "Had you tested the battle bridge yet, you'd know that it has its own backup inertial dampers. All you need to do is to uncouple it from the main systems and switch backup dampers. Now you can switch those off and leave the rest of the ship unaffected. The bridge crew will have to wear EVA suits however to cope with the G forces."

"I begin to understand your intention Commander," Shran said with barely hidden admiration. He recognized a capable warrior, when he saw one and the tactical prowess of Malcolm Reed was hard to miss.

"Commander Reed, you will relay all available data concerning operations from the battle bridge to all ships as soon as possible," Shran instructed. "As soon as the data are analyzed, each ship moves operations from the main bridge to the battle bridge for the remainder of the journey to get used to it. I expect to hear readiness reports from all ships within the day."

"Aye, sir," the other three Captains replied.

"What about the MACO detachments?" Colonel Frei asked.

"Commander," Shran said with a nod to Malcolm. "Any suggestions?"

"During the battle to retake the station, the MACO contingents should secure several key areas of their ships for the case that the enemy tries boarding us. Once the enemy ships are destroyed, all detachments should regroup with all haste to prepare a boarding force and retake the station. We must expect the occupation forces to try to destroy the station. To prevent that we will constantly bombard the station with EM pulses, so technology like scanners and such will be useless. You'll have to rely on pulse rifles, your eyes and most importantly your EVA suits, as most likely the life support systems will be down, too."

"Do we have any information about the station layout?" Frei asked. "They could still set off chemical charges with energy weapons. Your EM pulses would not prevent that."

"Very observant, Colonel," Malcolm said, handing him a PADD. "These are all available schematics. You will see that chemical charges would only guarantee destruction, if they are placed very near the machine room. It should be easy to secure this area first."

"Understood," Frei said, paging quickly through the schematics. "We will work out a tactical plan and report back to you, Captain Shran."

"I would prefer you report it directly to Commander Reed," Shran said. "I'm putting Commander Reed in tactical command for the battle. I may have more battle experience than all of you, but _Enterprise_ had earlier encounters with the Romulans, has knowledge about their technology and they know the NX class ships inside out."

"Thank you, Captain," Malcolm said, proud of the trust the Captain placed in him.

"Will you be able to keep up communication with all ships, if _Enterprise_ is hit by a deflected EM pulse?"

"Since _Columbia_ will keep close to us," Malcolm said. "We can keep up radio wave communications with them, if needed. They will relay all communications to the other ships."

"Good," Shran said. "All know what to do. We have less than 48 hours to prepare."

=/\=

_Oct. 15th 2155, in Orbit around Tarod IV_

"Captain Shran to Commander Reed on _Enterprise_ "

"Reed here."

"Commander from this time on, you are in command of the fleet. Give your instructions."

"Acknowledged; this is Commander Reed to all ships. During approach to the nebula all ships keep strict communications silence and turn off all expendable systems. Ships will operate on emergency lighting. Coordinates have been relayed to all ships. Once we reach the nebula we will establish inter-ships communication using radio waves. Frequencies have already been relayed to all communications consoles. Let's go and Godspeed everybody."

=/\=

"Enemy ships on 010 mark 25," Hoshi reported. "We are taking fire from the station."

"EM pulse prepared," Lieutenant Taylor reported. Malcolm's second in command manned the tactical console, while Malcolm stood beside him, with a tactical display and coordinated the efforts of the battle groups.

"Group Alpha, cover our behind, we're attacking the station. Group Beta, draw fire from enemy squadron!" Malcolm instructed into the microphone of his earpiece while T'Pol directed Hoshi to prepare for release of the crippling blow to _Salem One_.

After receiving the acknowledgments from both battle groups, he gave T'Pol a raised thumb to start the attack.

"Lieutenant Maywheather bring us in. Com, release the pulse on the commander's mark."

Enterprise zeroed in on the station, which was still firing on all ships. The four nimble Vulcan D'Kyr ships continued to fly hit-and-run attacks on the stations weapon systems, drawing fire away from the human ships.

"V-Alpha, get out of there," Malcolm barked, before turning to Hoshi. "Shields down, MARK!"

The ship was rocked as one of the station's phaser blasts hit exactly the moment, when _Enterprise_ dropped the shields.

"Pulse sent," Hoshi reported. "Direct hit to D deck. Hull plating holding."

"Shields back up," Taylor reported.

"Helm's gone, activating backup systems," Travis reported the obvious as most computer systems shut down, when _Enterprise_ was hit by the partially reflected EM pulse.

"Activating backup systems," Hoshi reported.

"Activate EVA suits," T'Pol ordered. "Commander, disable inertial dampers."

"Dampers deactivated," Trip reported from the engineering console.

"The station is shutting down," Hoshi said calmly, while closing the helmet of her EVA suit.

"Group Beta, status," Malcolm demanded.

"We've lost one of the Vulcan ships," came Shran's crackling reply over the radio link from _Columbia._

"We'll have your left flank," Malcolm said and transferred a set of coordinates to Travis' console.

"Have them," Travis acknowledged. "Hold on to something everybody."

Following Travis' input on the stick, the ship banked sharply to starboard. The view screen showed a grainy image of the space around them with an old-fashioned cross-hair symbol, which Taylor used to target the enemy ships.

The lift doors opened and a group of engineers in EVA suits came in.

"Get the sensors back online," Trip ordered from under Hoshi's console, trying not to roll away as the ship banked sharply again.

"Tube one and two ready," came the armory report over the make-shift communications systems."

"Target the spikes," Malcolm said to Taylor.

"Triple salvo," Taylor reported, but before he could finish his report, the ship shook as it was hit by debris from an exploding warbird.

"The holo emitters?" Trip asked, still working below Hoshi's console.

"You were right," Malcolm said with a satisfied smile. "They seem to have tapped their cloaking device directly into the engines."

"Strike!" Trip hissed.

"Please concentrate on your tasks," T'Pol reminded them. "There are still seven ships left."

With a whine Hoshi console started back up.

"Communications are back," she reported, while Trip crawled over to Travis' station.

"What have you done?" Shran asked over the open channel, now sounding much clearer.

"To all ships," Malcolm answered. "Target the spikes in the enemy's hind quarters. They are vulnerable."

Suddenly the ship was rocking under enemy fire.

" _Enterprise_ , you have one on your six," Julia Fletcher reported. "We'll take care of them."

"Acknowledged, _Columbia_."

"Hold on, everybody!" Travis barked as he banked the ship sharply to starboard to give _Columbia_ a better shot at the attacker."

"He's having way too much fun doing this," Trip groaned as he rolled helplessly from below Travis' console and hit the wall.

"Warbird on two o' clock," Taylor reported.

"Change course bearing 076," Malcolm demanded. "Fire at will"

"Greetings from tube two," Taylor said smugly as another warbird disintegrated after being hit by a triple salvo.

"Helm's coming back," Travis reported.

"Activate inertial dampers," T'Pol ordered. "Keep on the EVA suits."

"Shran could use a hand," Fletcher reported.

"Help him," Malcolm shot back. "We can manage for a while."

"Acknowledged."

While _Columbia_ veered off to help Shran, who's ship had come under fire from three warbirds, Malcolm addressed his detachment of Vulcan ships.

" _V-Alpha_ attack target on 255 mark 3, we'll take the other one."

"Acknowledged, _Enterprise._ "

"Taylor, you know the drill," Malcolm said, receiving a nod from his second.

" _Discovery_ is in trouble," Hoshi reported. "Shields down, three hull breaches. _Challenger_ lost navigation."

"Let's finish this," Malcolm said grimly, while Taylor delivered another crippling salvo that detonated another warbird. "Travis take us to the Vulcans."

=/\=

Captain Savok tried not to show his distress, when he saw the _T'Kuth_ explode after a direct hit to its propulsion systems. Feeling the agony his wife, the ship's medic, was in, he willed himself not to succumb to the mental pain that a severed parental bond inflicted on a Vulcan. His oldest son, Stevok, a promising pilot, had just deceased aboard the _T'Kuth._

" _Enterprise_ has neutralized target two," the com officer reported calmly. "They are coming to assist us."

"Draw enemy fire on us," Savok ordered, his voice clearly showing a growing amount of rage. "They must not be allowed to take a frontal stance. Make sure that their aft section is exposed for _Enterprise_ to attack."

"Acknowledged," tactical officer T'Lenta, a battle hardened female of 120 years, confirmed. She tried hard to shield herself from the massive waves of primal rage that her Captains mind radiated freely.

"Direct hit on Deck two," the com officer said. "No casualties."

The view screen lit up as the attacking warbird exploded in a blinding fireball after another skilfully delivered Salvo from _Enterprise._ The human ship vented plasma and showed several minor hull breaches, but compared to two lost Vulcan ships and two human ships severely crippled, their ship was in relatively agreeable shape. It was obvious that the humans' first Warp 5 ship was manned by Earth's most skilful warriors.

Not able to hide his grief and rage any longer, Savok croaked: "Stevok has been avenged."

Shortly after that, darkness enveloped him as he sunk to the floor, no longer able to withstand his raging emotions.

=/\=

"Situation in Beta Group?" Malcolm asked, when the last warbird on the left flank had expired.

" _Columbia_ is taking heavy fire from the last two warbirds," Hoshi shot back, ignoring the sting of sweat in her eyes. By now the EVA suit had turned into a veritable mobile sauna.

"Travis, attack pattern beta."

 _Enterprise_ swooped in between the two war birds with a risky move and Taylor didn't even wait for Malcolm's order. As soon as he saw a promising opening, he just emptied tube one and one of the two remaining warbird suffered the same fate as six other before.

Before the crew could even make plans for the last warbird, the attacker warped out of the system, abandoning the freighters and all personnel that might still be on the station.

"Hold fire," Malcolm said. "Sergeant Cole, prepare to board and seize the freighters."

"Understood."

The reply had barely arrived, when the ship rocked violently as all freighters exploded simultaneously, clearly having decided that they were too valuable to fall into enemy hands.

"Bloody hell!" Malcolm hissed. "Sergeant Cole, change of plans. Prepare to seize the station."

=/\=

Captain Shran limped along a corridor inside _Salem One_. After the bloody battle against the warbirds, which had cost 36 human and 50 Vulcan lives, the takeover of the station had been anti-climatic. Obviously the personnel on the station sacrificed themselves in the same way the freighter crews had done. Except for charred metal, where the occupants had vaporized themselves, there were no signs that the Romulans had been there.

That of course had changed, when the MACO teams had found an entire cargo bay full of charred corpses, amounting to the entire station personnel. The attackers had left nobody alive.

"How's the leg?" he heard someone ask from behind.

Turning around, he saw a grim looking Commander Tucker.

"Our doctor has bandaged it. I will be healed in a short time."

"How many did you lose?"

"Seven," Shran sighed. "I'm still coming to terms with that short lifespan of your species. All of them were younger than twenty-five; barely out of childhood for an Andorian."

"Trust me; even if they are adult by our standards, it's just the same sick feeling for us. They had their whole life ahead of them."

"We will have to get used to it," Shran said grimly. "That was just a test."

"A test?" Trip said in disbelief.

"This station has not much tactical value," Shran analysed. "The only nearby space is Betazed. If war will be fought, it won't be here. They were testing our resolve and our military strength."

"Well, I guess they got their answer," Trip said and Shran thought that it sounded inappropriately smug.

"Do not celebrate yet, pink-skin. One escaped and will take back valuable data. The next fight will be a lot bloodier."

The human remained silent.

=/\=

"With all due respect, Sir," Trip said. "Are you sure that we aren't of more use patrolling the sector instead of running the station?"

"For the moment we have enough ships," Gardner replied. " _Atlantis_ and _Endeavour_ sailed out for the first trials today and _Buran_ , _Soyuz_ and _Intrepid_ will be ready next January."

"So you want us to remain here," Trip stated, hoping for clarification.

"For the time being, yes. Lorian and a small fleet of Vulcan freighters are on their way with supplies. We want you to rebuild the station into a repair and field hospital facility. After you've repaired what you can, _Columbia_ , _Discovery_ and _Challenger_ return to Earth. The D'Kyr fleet and _Enterprise_ will remain. A fleet of three _Kumari_ 's is en-route, too. That's another reason for us to pick _Enterprise_ 's crew to run the station for now. For the first time we'll have humans, Vulcans and Andorians stationed in close quarters. There's only one crew, who could pull that off. "

"Your trust honors us, " T'Pol said.

"I will see personally to the proper conduct of the Andorians, while I remain," Shran added.

"That's good to hear. Captain T'Pol, I got a message from the High Council that two priests are under way. Do you need those?"

"Yes," T'Pol acknowledged. "Several crew members on the Vulcan vessels have lost children or mates in the fight. Without the help of experienced priests, some of them will not survive the ordeal."

"Do what you can for them," Gardner said, knowing better than to dig for details. "Commander Tucker, how long will it take you to convert this station into a repair facility?"

"It's hard to say, Admiral. We've got a lot of labs that can be converted to workshops, but unless we want to establish a regular cargo shuttle service, we'll need a lot of kit to produce parts on site. We can make do with what we have on the ships for a while, but I think it'll take at least three months."

"You'll have all the time you need," Gardner said.

"Something else," Gardner continued with a look at Malcolm. "Commander Reed, you should start to break in your second in command. In February you are supposed to take command of _Buran._ "

"Gladly, Sir."

"That'll be all for the moment. Report back to me, once you've assessed the situation and compiled your material requests."

The connection was severed.

"Looks like we're starting a hotel business," Trip quipped

 


	18. Salem One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip scares a young crewman witless, Lorian bashes the door in and Malcolm experiences social anxiety again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eldest mother T'Para comes from black'nblue's fantastic series "The road once traveled". It starts with "for want of a nail" and can be found on ff.net and Triaxian Silk

T'Pol awoke with a slight disorientation. Even though they had been living in the captain's quarters on _Salem One_ for three days now, she still felt slightly disoriented in the mornings, waking up in a room that was even more spacious than their quarters on _Enterprise_. All that, however, was not the reason for her premature return to consciousness.

Waking up to the sensation of being in a firm hug from a semi-naked or naked engineer was the rule rather the exception, but today he had woken her up by being unusually restless.

Before T'Pol could come to a conclusion or even a working theory about what could have caused the restlessness of her mate, he darted out of bed, muttering, "That's just wrong!"

"Trip, you should…," T'Pol said.

Running out of the door in his alarmed but unfortunately not quite fully awake state, Trip had forgotten a little detail. He was reminded of it by the shocked shriek of an unfortunate female Security crewman on night patrol, who had been bumped into by a stark naked chief engineer.

"…dress," T'Pol finished her unheard warning.

Her beet-red mate returned inside and quickly closed the door, but he was too alarmed to process the embarrassing situation of moments ago.

"Tucker to Engineering," he barked into the com device. "Take those engines offline, NOW!"

T'Pol still looked at him in a mixture of disbelief and expectation after that rather bizarre performance in the middle of the night, while her mate hectically tried to jump into a uniform.

"Someone tinkered with the engine," Trip explained, veritably horrified. "If it was one of our engineers, this station will be orbited by that engineer very soon," he growled and was gone.

"Engineering to Commander Tucker!" the com blared just moments after he had run out of the room.

=/\=

On his way from Engineering to breakfast with T'Pol, Malcolm, and Hoshi, Trip wondered if it would have been better to alert T'Pol to the gravity of the situation that had come up in the night. On one hand, she was the captain and as such should be alerted to it as early as possible, on the other hand she had been under enough stress lately. Supervising the reconstruction of the station, all the while using her recently Coriander-acquired skills as a counselor to keep the distressed Vulcans halfway sane until the healers arrived, had left her very exhausted, even if she wouldn't ever admit it. No, he convinced himself, it was better to deliver the news now rather than in the middle of the night. It wasn't as if they could change anything now anyway.

Trip knew the day would be a very long one when he heard the giggles in the mess hall. Since they did not have the luxury of their own dinner table in their quarters on _Salem One,_ breakfast with Malcolm and Hoshi was in the captain’s mess, and that meant running the gauntlet through the mess hall.

But the real ambush happened as soon as he entered the supposed safety of the captain's mess. Before he knew what hit him, he found Hoshi wrapped around him, running her hand over his chest, whispering suggestively, "Well, hi there stud…"

Maniacal laughter from Malcolm and that all too familiar tingling of Vulcan amusement in his mind were clear signs that T'Pol and Malcolm were in on the act. They must have been anyways, as that was the only way that Hoshi wouldn't find herself at the receiving end of a Vulcan nerve pinch. Good friend or not, such a brazen move would have fired all reflexes in a Vulcan bond mate had she not known of it before.

Trip shook off Hoshi's faux advance.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" he stated in frustration.

"Not a cat in hell's chance," Malcolm quipped. "I remember someone delivering a few quips about Hoshi's sunbathing on Vulcan. You'll never hear the end of it, mate"

"Fine, can we discuss the little, unimportant fact that it wasn't an act of spontaneous exhibitionism, but that the engines were no more than thirty seconds from blowing up?" Trip asked seriously.

In a heartbeat all teasing was forgotten and the giddy mood was gone.

"What happened?" Malcolm asked, while Trip finally managed to take his seat.

"Remember the routines the Klingon augments smuggled in - the ones that nearly blew up _Enterprise_?"

Malcolm nodded, even though he had spent most of that time in the brig.

"Did that happen here, too?" Hoshi asked with a horrified look.

"Worse," Trip explained. "These didn't have any parameters. They were just programmed to blow the engines up about 12 hours after going online."

"Who would use a fuse that burns for twelve hours?" Malcolm asked.

"Someone who is exceedingly well informed about our current status," T'Pol concluded. "Someone who knows that we are not under pressure and that a normal human shift is at maximum 10 hours long. Someone who knows that the engines would most likely be going online under the supervision of the chief engineer…"

"Who therefore wouldn't be around to notice the discrepancy when it arose twelve hours later," Malcolm concluded in a dark voice.

"I doubt you made it back to dress and then to engineering in time. So what happened?" Malcolm asked.

"Luck favors fools – and we had a ton of luck tonight…"

=/\=

_6 hours earlier…_

"ETA?" Lorian asked Karyn Archer, who had the helm. Even though it was the ship's night time, the captain had manned the bridge with the Alpha shift, as docking to a badly damaged space station that had only recently been seized from enemy occupation was nothing to be left to the most inexperienced shift.

"Two hours at present speed."

"Mr. Sato, Hail _Salem One_."

" _Salem One_ , this is NX-10 _Endurance_ requesting approach vector for convoy V-15."

"This is _Salem One_. Permission to approach on Vector 243 mark 32."

Instead of answering in the affirmative, Lorian froze and squinted his eyes in concentration.

" _Salem One_ for _Endurance_ , did you copy?" came the reply from the station.

"Be quiet!" Lorian demanded, which stunned the com officer on the station into shocked silence.

" _Salem One_ , your engines are in critical condition!" Lorian yelled. "Take them offline, alarm Commander Tucker and prepare for emergency docking!"

"Dock three, 255 mark 3," came the surprised reply and the connection went dead.

"Lieutenant, Maximum warp!" Lorian barked and punched a button on his captain's chair. "Kov, give me all you have, drain anything short of life support!"

"Lieutenant," Lorian half alerted half asked Karyn Archer for a report, without waiting for a reply from Kov.

"Warp six point oh two, holding, 3 minutes to critical approach."

"Ride 'er like you stole 'er," Lorian drawled - an occurrence even rarer than his occasional jokes. Falling back into his father's dialect was reserved for when things were **really** bad.

The captain ran off the bridge.

=/\=

Crewman McElroy waited at the small view port for the arrival of a star ship expected to perform an emergency docking maneuver. He still tried to work out what that was all about, and why a young girl from security had just sped past, sporting a rather unhealthy purple face color and was almost hyperventilating. But he immediately forgot about that and stumbled backwards when a huge NX class ship came out of warp at what looked like way past the last possible moment and was brought about ship with maneuvering thrusters screaming at full output.

With a loud bang the huge ship slammed into the docking port. A second, smaller bang indicated that the airlock had been pressurized explosively by blowing out the other ship's airlock door.

"What sort of maniac…," McElroy growled, but before he could say anything further, the airlock was forced open from the inside by a hastily entered override code. A Vulcan in Starfleet blue ran into the station at break neck speed.

"Engineering, where?" the Vulcan asked.

"Just around the corner to the left," McElroy stammered.

The Vulcan ran off.

"Permission to come aboard granted," the shocked crewman said, too baffled to do anything than stare after the intruder.

=/\=

Anna gritted her teeth. Where was Trip when you needed him? In her hectic state she didn't realize that it had barely been 20 seconds since she had gotten the call from her CO. Everything seemed to happen in slow-motion. Since all attempts at initiating a shutdown procedure had been thwarted by the compromised computer – even initiation of a warp core ejection had been futile – she was prepared to try the last option, and pointed her phaser at the main computer, ready to melt it into submission.

"NO, ANNA!" she heard someone yell from behind. Turning around, she saw a Vulcan advance with what could only be described as a haunted look. She stared open-mouthed at him as he ran past and jumped at the ladder that led to the top of the main reactor.

She had often heard about the superior strength of Vulcans, but this was the first time she’d actually seen it in person. The Vulcan, whom she only now recognized as Lorian, Trip's son from the different time line, landed halfway up the ladder. With no more than two additional steps he was on top of the engine. She felt immediately reminded of the time that the boss had started the fireworks in engineering to recycle the engines in under two minutes, but unlike Trip back then, Lorian didn't come running back down the stairs surrounded by fireworks – he came flying in a massive wave of sparks.

With a loud thud Lorian landed on the floor not far from Anna, while a rather haggard looking Chief Engineer came running in.

"We must…" she heard him yell, but the rest was drowned out by the horrible whine of the engine shutting down completely.

"What the hell?!" her boss asked.

"Hi to you too, Dad," Lorian groaned, while Anna helped him up. She couldn't quite believe that he had survived such a fall with not much more than a few bruises.

"Lorian? What are you doing in here?"

"I took the liberty of shutting down the engines," Lorian explained. "Either someone from your team is the most useless engineer in Starfleet or the engines have been sabotaged."

=/\=

_Six hours later…_

Malcolm shook his head.

"So basically, we now have a fried engine, a bashed in docking port, and no clue who tried to blow us to kingdom come?"

"Yep," Trip said grimly. "Thank God for Hoshi's repairs to the com system. Had Lorian not heard that the engine was running like crap over the com-link, we'd be space dust now."

"Somehow, I'm not hungry anymore," Hoshi added.

"Was that why you woke up?" T'Pol asked.

"Yeah, I always wake up if the engine sound's not right," Trip said. "But I never would have made it in time. I'd say a wrecked docking port is a small price to pay for still being here. He has one hell of a helmsman to dock the ship like that."

"Leaves the question of who did it," Hoshi said and looked at Malcolm. "Do you think we have another traitor in the crew?"

"It can't have been any of our crews," Malcolm said. "After the Masaro debacle the background checks on all deep space personnel were taken to paranoid levels. Even Harris was part of them, and trust me, if you ever did as much as miss a date you're not going to get near any NX class. They barely found enough personnel with white enough vests to man the completed ships."

"That leaves the Andorians and the Vulcans," Trip concluded.

"I'm afraid it's got to be the Vulcans," Malcolm said with an apologetic look at T'Pol. "Only the Vulcans had the full reports of our encounter with the Klingon augments and could therefore know about this weakness."

"That doesn't mean it **must** be the Vulcans," Trip countered in defense of his mate's species.

"I agree with Malcolm," T'Pol said. "Only someone with detailed knowledge of the reports would be able to exploit this or would even get the idea to sabotage the engines this way."

"Shran?" Trip asked, not yet comfortable with the thought of being disappointed by a species that he had come to value a great deal since his bonding to T'Pol.

"Even if Captain Archer told Shran about the encounter at one point, he lacks the necessary engineering expertise to use this knowledge," T'Pol disagreed.

"And his former crew?" Trip insisted.

"Most of those who survived the destruction of _Kumari_ left the Imperial Guard after Shran’s dismissal and followed him to Starfleet. They are not yet commissioned, but most have applied," Malcolm said. "Face it, Trip, even T'Pol said one of the Vulcans is the most likely suspect."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Trip grumbled.

"Neither do I," T'Pol said and covered his hand with hers. "Unfortunately, it is the most logical conclusion. We have to perform a clandestine background check, Malcolm."

"How do we do that without alerting them?" Malcolm asked.

"There are ways to achieve that. We have your connection to Mr. Harris and we have our clan," T'Pol said.

"Wait… this Harris guy," Trip said and shot Malcolm a doubtful look. "Didn't you say you don't want to have anything to do with him anymore?"

"T'Pol managed to convince him to 'volunteer' his cooperation without expecting me to come back to his 'organization'," Malcolm replied deadpan.

Trip stared at T'Pol. "I don't wanna know, do I?"

"No," T'Pol delivered dryly.

"She's been part of the Ministry of Security," Malcolm said, not wanting any tension between his two friends. "Let's say Harris has a few dark spots in his history, and that makes him vulnerable to 'persuasion'."

"What about the clan?" Trip asked, hoping to get away from the spy topic. "Soval is back with the Xindi or do you plan to get the Eldest involved in this?"

"Indeed I do," T'Pol answered.

"Care to enlighten us?" Malcolm asked.

"On the outside Vulcan society looks like a patriarchal affair," Trip started to explain. "Nominally, Soval is the head of the clan, but in reality it's the eldest mothers of the clans who run the show."

"Eldest mother being what it says on the tin?" Malcolm asked.

"Well, let's just say that T'Para was already born when the Russians launched _Sputnik_."

"That was two hundred years ago," Hoshi said in surprise.

"Hence the title, Eldest Mother," Trip replied with a grin.

"But how can your Eldest Mother help in this one?" Malcolm asked. "Wouldn't Minister T'Pau be the better option? After all she's the First Minister, and is of your clan, too, if I recall correctly."

"If we contacted T'Pau we would alert other members of the High Council," T'Pol said. "Only the Eldest has the means to investigate this without alerting anyone."

"Sounds like a cheesy spy story, if you ask me," Hoshi said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

=/\=

"Is this really necessary?" Malcolm asked, straightening the collar of his full dress uniform.

"Trust me, you don't go calling the Eldest Mother in a cheap suit," Trip explained. "It's rare enough to contact her without formally requesting an audience."

"You make it sound as if she's the pope," Malcolm said, slightly bemused by Trip's Vulcan robes.

"When it comes to Vulcan clans, she IS the pope and the queen, all rolled into one person. Just think about it. T'Pau is the head of government, but when the Eldest says 'Jump!' even T'Pau has to ask 'how high'," Trip explained.

"Well, at least our little carnival makes more sense then."

"Wait till you see Hoshi," Trip snickered.

"What's with her?" Malcolm asked. "I think she looks good in full dress. Well, to be honest, she'd look good in a burlap sack or without it for that matter."

"Hoshi won't be wearing a uniform," Trip explained. "Women aren't allowed to wear uniform when speaking to the Eldest. It would be a lesser offense to appear naked, really."

"So she's gonna wear one of these?" Malcolm asked and pointed at Trip's ornamented ceremonial robes, shaking his head. "Seriously, all this makes less and less sense to me: full dress, robes… and what’s with T'Pol asking us to be Lorian’s god parents?"

"Ok, I’ll try to sum that up," Trip said, not suppressing a smug grin about Malcolm's social anxiety. "Most of the rules when it comes to dealing with the Eldest come from ancient times, or how she would call it – last year."

Both men snickered.

"A few hundred years ago, females were still considered too precious to serve in the military. For a female to wear a uniform was the ultimate offense. Now that has changed, of course, but it is still considered an offense for females to face the Eldest in a uniform."

"I see," Malcolm said.

"Tradition demands that women wear the traditional dress of their region, which means T'Pol will wear a stunner of a robe. Since tradition never expected humans to enter into the mix, we decided that the best compromise would be for Hoshi to wear a traditional kimono."

"And what’s with the god parents? Not that I'm not honored by it, but it seems rather strange to be the god parent of someone who's three times as old as I am."

"Each Vulcan child has two _En'ahr'at_ who will be charged with the care of the child should something happen to the parents. Normally that is an uncle and aunt, but there's nothing written that says they have to be blood related."

"I don't think Lorian needs someone to care for him," Malcolm snorted with amusement.

"Technically not, of course, but it would be a bad offense to leave Lorian without god parents. This clan business simply demands it."

"Sounds to me as if you can dig yourself quite a few holes with these Eldest Mothers," Malcolm said.

"It's a political minefield," Trip agreed. "But it's our only chance."

Their talk was interrupted when the door opened and the ladies entered.

"Blimey!" Malcolm exclaimed. "Now, you two are a picture!"

"Second that," Trip stammered.

"I guess that means they like it, T'Pol," Hoshi said with a giggle.

"Perhaps we should wear this attire more often," T'Pol said. "It is a rare feat to render both of them unable to speak."

Trip was the first to regain coherence: "I'm not gonna argue with that."

=/\=

Feeling T'Pol's nervousness resonating in the bond, he willed himself to send back reassuring thoughts while the transmission link came in. The face of an old Vulcan woman appeared on the screen and he couldn't help noticing that the stern look that met them would be enough to frighten a Klingon into surrender.

" _Why dost thou involve off-worlders in our business, daughter of our clan?"_

Trip tried not to show his confusion. Not only didn't the old lady believe in the concept of greetings by the looks of things, she also seemed to speak some sort of ancient dialect, if the somewhat medieval sounding translation of the universal translator was anything to go by.

" _We are Hoshi, daughter of Shinichi, and Malcolm, son of Stuart, Eldest Mother. We are those who are En'ahr'at of thy clan's son Lorian,"_ Hoshi replied in the same weird sounding dialect, and Trip saw her end her statement with a deep Japanese bow.

" _I greet thee, Hoshi and Malcolm,"_ the Vulcan lady replied, before turning back to T'Pol. " _What is thy desire, daughter of our clan?"_

" _You, as my mate, are expected to answer,"_ Trip heard T'Pol's hint resonate in his mind.

"We are in need of your help, Eldest Mother," he answered and just to be on the safe side, he bowed, too.

"Speak, Charles, son of our clan," she replied. Not only did she switch effortlessly to the language of humans, she obviously was also very good at putting one and one together, surmising his identity just from the fact that he had answered her question.

"We have reason to believe that amidst the crews of the six Vulcan ships under our command there is a saboteur who tried to destroy the space station we are currently rebuilding. Only through Lorian’s intervention were we saved."

"That is a grave accusation, son of our clan. What is your logic to conclude what you say?"

"Only Vulcans and Humans possess the knowledge that was applied to sabotage our engines. After eliminating all Humans as culprits, logic dictates that one of the Vulcans must be the perpetrator of this outrage."

"Your logic is sound," the Eldest Mother replied. "What are the ships under your command?"

Trip rattled off the names of the six _D'Kyr_ class cruisers under their command and hoped that the old lady wouldn't be offended by his dialect. If she was, she certainly didn't let it show.

"Terval, the first officer of the _Gol,_ is a son of our clan," the Eldest explained after a short period of thinking. "He will contact you as soon as I have arranged to instruct him. He shall assist you with your inquiry."

"Your service honors us," Trip parroted the words that T'Pol sent him by way of 'bond-speak'.

A simple nod was all he got for an answer, and the connection ended abruptly.

"That could've gone better," Trip sighed, convinced that somehow he had offended the Eldest to prompt the abrupt end to the conversation.

"You did nothing wrong," T'Pol assured him. "The Eldest has always been somewhat terse in her replies."

"That's one way of putting it," Malcolm added.

=/\=

 _The secret handshake of the freemasons is nothing compared to that,_ Malcolm thought with amusement as he watched T'Pol and the Vulcan subcommander exchange a somewhat elaborate greeting of kinship.

"I am here to serve, _krei,_ " Terval said.

"Your service honors us," T'Pol replied. "This is Commander Malcolm Reed, our Chief of Security. I wish that you collaborate with him to uncover the saboteur. Has the Eldest briefed you on our situation?"

"She has given me all pertinent information," the Vulcan explained after exchanging a nod with Malcolm. "I find it hard to believe that a Vulcan would be capable of such treachery, but the logic of the Eldest is irrefutable."

=/\=

"I believe we have identified the likely culprit," Terval reported just a few hours later.

"That was quick," Trip answered.

"T'Ran, an engineer aboard the _Shi'kar,_ has not reported for her duty shift and is currently listed as absent from her ship."

"The _Shi'kar_ is docked in docking port 4-alpha, here," Malcolm reported and pointed to the schematics of the station. "That means she's most likely on the station and looking for more trouble to cause."

"Agreed," Terval said. "We should secure key areas of the station."

Malcolm opened his communicator. "Reed to Taylor."

"Taylor here."

"Operation Clampdown is a go."

"Done," Malcolm said to his companions once Taylor had answered affirmative.

Opening a hatch in the stations situation room, Malcolm handed out phasers to Trip, Lorian, T'Pol and Terval.

"My team has secured all key areas. Now it's up to us to hunt her down," he said.

=/\=

Lorian fell backwards with a pained grunt as a phaser blast went right through his left hand.

"I guess we found her," he said, while T'Pol applied some make-shift bandages to his bleeding hand.

"Stay here," she instructed, then followed the others as they zeroed in on the Vulcan female, who had entrenched herself in one of the access tubes.

" _T'Ran, you are outnumbered. There is no logic in pursuing this course of action any further,"_ Terval instructed in Vulcan.

Another phaser blast forced them to take cover again.

"That, I believe, was the universal instruction to sod off," Malcolm concluded dryly.

"I know that tube," Trip whispered. "I think I can sneak up on her from behind."

"Be careful," T'Pol warned. "She is dangerous."

"No heroics," Trip promised and crawled into an access tube that would enable him to ambush the female.

=/\=

Unceremoniously Trip dropped into the main access tube right behind the female, keeping her at gun point.

"I think you've had it, lady," he said, surprised by his own calmness. He should have been outraged, considering that this woman tried to blow up the station.

Instead of reacting or even looking back the female just sat there.

"Don't try the ' _no habla inglese_ ' bit," Trip snorted. "You've all learned Standard at the Vulcan academy, so shake it, lady, before my finger gets twitchy."

Just preparing to prompt her a third time, Trip saw her raising her phaser and he pulled the trigger, but the female was quicker.

With a cry of pain she evaporated before his eyes.

  
  



	19. Test Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip invents artificial diarrhea, the Romulans are angry and Terval takes up bowling...

"Trip?" Malcolm asked from behind the pillar that the small battle group used as cover.

"All clear, Malcolm. You better take a look at this."

Carefully Malcolm crawled into the access tube and with a horrified "urk!" he quickly covered his nose and mouth with the collar of his uniform.

"You better stay out, T'Pol," he called back, knowing that she would probably drop down unconscious immediately if confronted with the horrible stench.

After indicating Trip to activate the ventilation system that was normally used to flush out smoke or other forms of contamination, he took out his scanner, trying to pick up the residue of weapons activity.

"Found anything?" Trip asked after the ventilation system had started to make the air breathable again.

"It's exactly the same signature we found after seizing the station. I suppose that clears up her motive. We should alert the Vulcans. There could be more sleepers waiting on their ships."

"And how would you propose to do that?" Trip asked back.

"We now have a fresh and complete weapon signature," Malcolm said, waving his scanner in triumph. "If there are more of them around, we should be able to uncover them by the signature of their weapons. They're not exactly standard issue Vulcan phasers."

=/\=

Hoshi looked around the table. That was probably one of the biggest congregations of Vulcans ever in a human facility. Six Vulcan captains, their tactical officers, Terval and _Enterprise_ 's officers – all currently of _Salem_ _One_ – had assembled in the situation room of the station to discuss the aftermath of T'Ran's amok run.

Her look fell on poor captain Savok. Even though her long friendship with T'Pol had given her precious insight into the private life of Vulcans, she had never seen one, who looked so openly miserable. She knew that T'Pol had spent a lot of time in meditation with him and his wife T'Lara, trying to help them cope with the loss of their son Stevok and keep them functioning while waiting for the the priests to arrive. But now he had insult added to injury, knowing that one of the traitors had been a member of his crew. Even to someone not as intimately familiar with the inner workings of a Vulcan as herself, it was patently obvious that Captain Savok was still far from being in complete control of his emotions.

"Has the inquiry led to any results," T'Pol asked and Hoshi was startled when she heard captain Savok let out an audible sigh. To her surprise all Vulcans including T'Pol and even Trip immediately cast their glances down on the table. Since this seemed the way how Vulcans gave an obviously grieving man some sort of privacy, she quickly mirrored the gesture and Malcolm seemed to have picked up the clue, too.

"Two members of my crew took their own life," Savok reported. "There appears to have been some kind of communication between them as their suicides happened at almost the same time as the one of T'Ran."

Hoshi, still staring at the table in front of her thought that Savok used the name of the traitor almost like a swear word. Hearing a Vulcan's voice with so much emotion in it was an unsettling experience, especially for someone who knew what an out-of-control Vulcan would be like.

"Where you able to confirm the data we provided?" T'Pol asked.

"Yes. Weapon signatures as well as the type of organic residue after their suicide match exactly with the data you provided. There is no doubt that the two crew members were acting in league with T'Ran."

"That leaves the question, how three high profile traitors could gain a posting on a Vulcan ship," Malcolm said.

"Before we continue," T'Pol interrupted. "I would suggest that we excuse Captain Savok, so that he may return to meditation. Your service despite the dire circumstances honors you, Captain."

Hoshi observed the nod of Savok and watched him leave the room. She couldn't help but admire the man. Despite his emotional turmoil, his exit had a strange aura of dignity about it.

"Subcommander Terval, were you able to find any indication, how the crew members in question achieved their posting?" T'Pol asked.

"It is currently unknown, how they managed to pass all checks by the Ministry of Security, but there is one commonality: All of them joined the fleet shortly after the dismissal of former administrator V'Las."

"I remember that Minister T'Pau could only give us 23 ships, when we chased the drone ship," Malcolm said. "If I remember correctly, the reason was that half of the Vulcan fleet was out of crew. Could they have used that to their advantage?"

"The thought of a Vulcan neglecting his duties like that is unsettling," Terval replied. "But we must take into consideration that the security checks may not have been conducted at peak efficiency at the time."

 _That's one way to put it,_ Hoshi thought with grim sarcasm.

=/\=

Terval looked at the data before him. It had taken him a few minutes to adjust to the switch from security investigation, lasting several days, to an engineering test, but the need for efficiency demanded it. Since freighters with materials, tools and additional engineering personnel arrived almost daily, getting the dilapidated and damaged space station back into working order required every free resource.

That's why Terval found himself assisting the only non-Vulcan member of his clan in a pivotal test.

"You know," the human started. "If I wasn't impressed with Vulcans already, I'd certainly be now. Every one of you I run into can fill in just about any spot on the Engineering team at the drop of a hat – from the Captain to the most junior lab assistant."

While Terval did not understand, what importance the fall of headgear had in this case, he nonetheless understood the gist of his human _krei_ 's statement.

"Due to our lesser need for sleep, Vulcan ships are not as generously staffed as human ships," he explained. "While you have three to four complete shifts for major ship functions, our ships only have two. This means that personnel have to be cross trained to fill in more than one position."

"And all of them can work in engineering, I suppose."

"Indeed."

"I think T'Pol once said something like that, but at the time I thought that was just a bit of showing off."

"Vulcans do not 'show off', Commander," Terval said with a hint of indignation, but to his surprise, his human relative started to laugh.

"You find this amusing?" he asked.

"Yeah, I do," Trip answered. "If I'd have a credit for every time T'Pol said 'Vulcans do not do this or that', I'd be filthy rich by now. Guess what - most of the things she did anyway."

" _Krei_ T'Pol is not a typical Vulcan," Terval said.

"You can say that again."

" _Krei_ T'Pol is not a typical Vulcan," Terval parroted, which obviously amused the human even more.

"Sorry," the Commander said. "That's just a figure of speech. It means that I completely agree with your statement."

"Interesting," Terval said with a raised brow. "I believe it would be prudent for me to study human colloquialism in more detail, now that we have a human clan member."

"That'd be mighty generous, but trust me, it is easier for me to learn Vulcan than for you to get a grip on my 'colorful phrases', as Soval puts it. And besides; I'm one human in the whole clan of – what - a few hundred Vulcans? Why should they all learn to understand me, when it is much more logical for me to learn Vulcan?"

"Indeed," Terval said.

=/\=

"Ok, I think we're ready," Trip said. As much as he enjoyed talking with one of T'Pol's far-flung relatives, there was a vital test to conduct. If successful, his ingenious contraption, built from parts they had scavenged from three protein re-sequencers – much to Chef's dismay – would now churn out several stem bolts instead of milk.

"Re-sequencing procedures initiated, energy flow steady," Terval reported.

With a metallic hum the machine came to life and the expected shimmer built up between the platform and the sequence emitters. A rather unappetizing sound built up – sounding like a rather nasty case of diarrhea, Trip thought – and the sequence shut down.

"That's not gone well," Trip sighed, looking at the puddles of steaming hot molten metal on the platform.

"The alloy has been correctly re-sequenced," Terval reported after waving his scanner over the rather unfortunate result of their test. "It appears that the material was merely emitted in the wrong aggregate state."

"A 'mere' 2.000 degree deviation," Trip snorted in frustration, while carefully removing the puddles of metal before they would become solid. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice in his mind:

_Try reducing the speed of the re-sequencing process by a factor of two point eight five._

Concentrating on his own path to her mind, he sent her an image of himself kissing her on the cheek – his usual image that meant 'Thanks darling'.

When he returned to full attention, he found himself under high-browed scrutiny of Terval.

"T'Pol says we should slow down the re-sequencing procedure by factor 2.85," he explained.

"You can communicate telepathically?" Terval asked - his eyebrow still in arctic explorer mode.

"Well, T'Pol can. I, having all the telepathic talent of a tree stump, can't really. I can only send her images and impressions, and even that took weeks of intense training."

"Fascinating; such ability is most unusual."

"Not really. T'Pol is a strong telepath, according to Soval."

"You do not understand," Terval insisted. "Speaking without words has been unheard of since the time of awakening. The bond between you must be immensely strong."

"Wow, never looked at it like that," Trip realized wide-eyed. "Guess we were really meant for each other."

"Indeed."

"Ok," Trip said, returning to the business at hand. "You put the breaks on that procedure and I'll update the math for energy requirements."

"Agreed," Terval answered and Trip had to smile, knowing that the Vulcan had probably just guessed what task he was expected to complete.

=/\=

T'Pol flinched, when her mind was hit, unprepared, by a sudden wave of joy and satisfaction. Followed shortly afterward by an image of a single rose, her mate's 'standard image' for 'sorry', she knew that the latest test must have been successful and he had been too occupied to raise his shields before allowing his emotions free reign. She quickly changed direction to section E45, where Trip and Terval had spent the best part of the shift wrapped up in their experiments.

As she entered the workshop, she found Trip holding a stem bolt with a gripper, while Terval took measurements with an engineering scanner.

"I suppose your experiment has met with some success?" T'Pol asked.

"Yep," Trip said with a broad grin and she could feel his pride resonating in her mind. "We have now the first re-sequencer that can produce inorganic matter."

"This is indeed a success," T'Pol answered. "I take it, its use is somewhat limited though?"

"Well, since we have to use organic matter as a source, it only works by re-sequencing trace elements, so the amount of matter is somewhat limited and we still have a temperature problem. But if we slow down the re-sequencing any further, we won't be able to keep up with the energy demands."

"Will it be of practical use?" T'Pol asked.

"Oh it will," Trip reported happily. "I reckon, we can produce about 2 kilos of alloy from a day's load of crap…"

"Your language," T'Pol interrupted sternly.

"Sorry. So anything up to 2 kilos can be produced quickly and without bothering a whole engineering crew for half a shift. Especially for all those small nuts 'n bolts it will save us a lot of trouble."

=/\=

"Deploy grapplers," Erika ordered and waited for the affirmative confirmation. Just a few days into the final trial runs of _Atlantis_ they had come across a stranded UEC freighter. With the United Earth Cargo Authority having no other ship in the vicinity, Starfleet had agreed to help out and that's why the crew of UEC _Horizon_ found themselves getting a tow from Earth's NX fleet flagship.

"Grapplers latched on," the tactical officer replied.

"Helm, direct course to _Salem One_ , full impulse!"

=/\=

Trip was still trying to swallow down the embarrassment of having been admonished for his language, when Hoshi interrupted them.

"Captain, there's an incoming transmission from _Atlantis_."

"Put it through to workshop E45."

The small view screen lit up and showed an NX class bridge that only differed from that on _Enterprise_ in the fact that it had two Captain's chairs. One was occupied by a still very fragile looking Erika Hernandez and the other by a grinning Commodore Archer.

"It's good to see you, T'Pol."

"As it is to see you Commodore," T'Pol replied, adding: "And especially you, Captain Hernandez."

"We are headed your way with a stranded freighter in tow. The _Horizon_ was coming to you with a load of tools anyway, so Starfleet thinks you might be able to help them."

"Travis will love to see his folks, Cap'n," Trip said. "We only have two docking ports and two robotic arms operational so far, but that should be enough to deal with a freighter. We won't have have any for you though. Lorian bashed the only operating big sized port in, so you'll have to ship to one of the smaller ports with a shuttle pod.

"You'd think after eighty years as a Captain he would have gotten the hang of the driving," Archer chuckled.

"Well, it was **your** granddaughter, who did the parking," Trip retorted smugly. "And besides, had they not bashed the door in, we'd be space dust now. But that's a story to be told, when you're here."

"I'm keen to hear it," Archer replied. "We'll arrive in 5 days."

=/\=

_5 days later..._

For the first time since the Siege of _Salem One_ Captain Savok felt firmly in control of his emotions again. While his mate still struggled and still could not return to duty, he had managed to overcome the agony of the severed bond with his deceased son.

Of all the people, who helped them, Captain T'Pol and her human mate were probably the most unexpected. Having been extremely apprehensive to include the human in the meditation, but too much in turmoil to really protest this idea, he soon had to revise his opinion of humans, when he realized just how effective the inclusion of a human had made the practice.

Lacking the instinctual inhibitions to express his emotions, the human had simply soaked up the pain through the touch telepathic connection that had been created by lightly touching each other in what Commander Tucker had once described as a 'telepathic pow-wow' – to the obvious displeasure of his mate. Seeing the human's discolored face, clearly showing the discomfort he had willingly subjected himself to, had been an unsettling experience, but it had been most effective. Thankfully he had not needed to discomfort the couple any longer once the priests had arrived.

Quickly putting his thoughts aside, Savok returned his full attention to the task at hand. A human NX class ship had just released a stricken cargo vessel from its grappling devices and the _Gol_ was expected to arrest them with the tractor beam and deliver them to the designated docking port.

"Target in tractor range," the tactical officer reported.

"Engage. Proceed to docking port on manual control."

The helm officer shot him a high-browed look, but did not question his orders.

"Is there a problem with the automatic controls that has not been brought to our attention?" the young female behind the engineering console asked.

"None that I am aware of," Savok answered. "It is merely something that I have learned from our human hosts. One cannot know if automatic controls become unavailable in a critical moment. Practicing in a non-critical situation improves our proficiency in backup operations. I find their logic surprisingly convincing."

"Agreed," the young female replied, but Savok doubted that these words had been entirely sincere. A lot of his crew slavishly followed logic to the point that some had lost the motivation or even the ability to consider outside options, when a 'most logical' solution was readily available.

Pure, unquestioned logic would dictate the use automated measures if available, because they were always more precise than even the most skilled manual operator. Furthermore did every cadet at the Vulcan academy learn to manually control a vessel and Vulcans were not known to lose memory of once memorized procedures. So, before meeting the humans, he too would have never seen any need to practice what one had already memorized.

Commander Tucker had likened it to a human activity called 'riding a bike', referring to the operation of an unstable, single tracked, muscle propelled vehicle, only operable safely due to gyroscopic effects and the sense of balance of the individual controlling it. He had explained that once acquired, one rarely lost the ability to operate such a vehicle, but doing so after a long time break was bound to be insecure for a period of time.

Savok found that theory proven by the obvious additional stress his helmsman was displaying and the rather rough docking. He made a mental note to continue the practice until his crew's proficiency would improve substantially.

=/\=

"Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted," T'Pol answered.

"Welcome back, Cap'n," Trip said. "Erika's not coming?"

"Walking from our quarters to the bridge is still a marathon for her. It'll take a few more weeks until she's really fit."

"Makes sense, she looked still a bit fragile."

Jon just nodded, confirming Trip's observation.

As they entered the Captain's mess, Malcolm and Hoshi were already waiting and greeted their former Captain quite enthusiastically.

"Looks like the Captain's dinner has become a group activity," Jon said with a grin.

"Tell us about it," Trip shot back. "Terval said that if we'd be Andorians, he'd have mistaken us for a married quad."

Jon laughed. "Who's Terval?"

"One of the Vulcans. A far-flung cousin of T'Pol. He's the one, who uncovered the Romulan sleepers and one heck of an engineer on top of it."

Jon sobered. "I've read the reports. Does that have to do with Lorian bashing your door in?"

"Yeah," Trip said with a nod. "Our engines were overloading after those damn traitors sabotaged them. He actually heard that from light years away over the com link. Came screaming in here at 6.02 breaking at the last second, slammed into the docking port and took the engines down. Thirty seconds later and we would have been toast."

"Dammit," Jon swore under his breath.

=/\=

_Meanwhile on Romulus…_

The Praetor was most displeased, so much was obvious from his furious pacing and the glares he sent towards Admiral Valdore. For once Tavrus, who once was Talok, did not desire to be in the Admiral's place.

"Valdore," the Praetor growled. "Out of three missions you failed two! What do you have to say for yourself that would convince me to not have you executed immediately?"

"I do not have any justification. I shall accept any judgment you see fit," Valdore explained and Tavrus allowed himself a mental snort. _As if you have a choice,_ he thought sarcastically. Having seen V'Las' being overthrown on Vulcan, Tavrus knew that those humans were much more cunning than anyone would give them credit for. Valdore had simply underestimated them.

"Since when has the Romulan Empire taken to fleeing the scene of a battle?" the Praetor asked in growing anger about the ship that had fled the Battle for the space station.

"If you allow, Praetor," Tavrus interjected before Valdore would gamble away his last chance to live another day.

"What do you have to say, Centurio?"

"It was an unusual, but necessary maneuver that the Admiral ordered upon my urging."

"Since when does an Admiral of the Romulan Empire need tactical advice from a Centurio?"

"With all respect, Excellency; nobody in all of the Empire's forces has spent more time on Vulcan and nobody knows more about those humans than me. While it was difficult to learn much about them, because V'Las and his government were completely ignorant, I managed to gather enough data on them, especially from the data that were brought back by the ship that escaped the battle scene. The desire to gather important intelligence on the humans was the reason for my advice."

"I see," the Praetor answered and Tavrus was relieved that he seemed to be slightly mollified.

"Let us hear your findings and I hope they were worth such a coward act."

"We have now a much clearer, if still incomplete picture of the humans," Tavrus explained. "To divide and conquer has always been our most effective tactic in the expansion of the Empire. The drone ship mission was bound to fail, since the humans have a most effective, still unexplainable ability to easily make allies. The intercepted communications, brought back by the escaped ship, reveal that two of the four human ships in the battle were commanded by non-humans. One was captained by a Vulcan female, one by an Andorian male. If they have progressed to the point that other races agree to serve in their fleet. I believe our usual method of fomenting dissent and hostility among our enemies has been rendered mostly ineffective when humans are involved."

"Did you say FOUR ships?" the Praetor yelled. "Are you meaning to say that eight Romulan warbirds, the pride of the Empire, have been overpowered by four primitive human vessels?"

"Unfortunately they are not quite as primitive any more," Tavrus explained. "They were equipped with shielding that bore a Vulcan signature and they seem to have received weapon upgrades that the Tal'Shiar identified as Andorian. The most important factor was, however that they seemed to possess quite detailed knowledge of our experimental cloaking technology, mainly about it's energy consumption and the resulting vulnerability of our ships.

"How is that possible," the Praetor fumed. "Nobody has ever infiltrated the Empire."

Tavrus knew better than to correct the Praetor and remind him of the escaped V'Shar operatives of not too many weeks ago.

"I believe that is a question that is easily answered," Vrax said. Tavrus couldn't believe his ears. Having just recently been released from prison after his role in the failed drone ship mission, the man was either unbelievably brave or unbelievably stupid to address the Preator when he was so agitated.

"Speak," the Praetor spat.

"During the tests with the drone ship two humans infiltrated the prototype. One of them possessed enough engineering knowledge to sabotage it and he forced us into a stalemate that made it impossible to eliminate the trespassers without destroying the prototype."

"Do we know who they were?"

"Of one, we have only the designation 'Malcolm', the other one was a Commander Tucker," Valdore remembered.

"Your first useful contribution, Valdore, " the Praetor remarked sarcastically.

"From what I gathered during my time on Vulcan, a human Commander Tucker is the chief engineer on the Earth vessel _Enterprise_. According to our data this ship was part of the latest battle. It is the one under command of the Vulcan," Tavrus filled in.

"I can't hear that name any more!" the Praetor yelled. "Does a single ship make fools of the whole Empire?"

"I do not think so," Tavrus said, trying to mollify the Praetor, seeing that he had been so far the only person able to do so. "But I dare say that the humans are the worthiest foe we have encountered so far."

The Praetor shot him an enraged look and Tavrus knew he better had some good arguments at hand, if he wanted to leave this chamber alive.

"If you allow, Preator," he continued. "The humans are not repressed robots, like the Vulcans nor are they primitive animals, like the Klingons. But they can easily assume either role if it furthers their course. They have been difficult to match, because they never do what one would expect."

"Go on," the Praetor demanded.

"When a race called the Xindi attacked Earth and killed seven million humans in a single attack, one would have expected them to assemble a fleet to go after these Xindi. What they did however was sending a single ship and - I ask forgiveness – it was the _Enterprise_. I was not able to gain access to the full reports on Vulcan, but it was common knowledge that they tracked the Xindi down with unprecedented ruthlessness, even destroying a Vulcan ship in the process, but the final victory was not achieved in battle. They simply turned the Xindi into a tentative ally."

The Praetor shot him a dubious glare. "Centurio, why do we only now learn of this?"

"The _Tal'Shiar_ had all these information," Tavrus explained calmly. "Obviously they saw no need to use these information or bring them to your attention."

"I want solutions!" the Praetor demanded. "So far I have only heard how these humans made fools of us. I agree with you Centurio. They appear to be a worthy foe. But they must have a weakness."

"They do," Tavrus replied. "They are as driven by their emotions as we are. But they are vulnerable to them as well. They can not deal well with mass loss of life."

"You just told us, how they defeated the Xindi with a single ship after losing seven million to them," the Praetor reminded him.

"Yes, but it also left their home world in turmoil. Even at the time when I left Vulcan, which was more than a year after the attack and months after the return of _Enterprise_ , they still had not recovered from the dissent and strife it created within their civilian community."

"Are you proposing another coward attack against civilians, like the attack on Coridan?" the Praetor demanded. "Is that the new tactic of the Empire? Massacre the Civilians to beat their military?"

"It might not appear to be the most honorable way, Praetor, but it is the best way to fight them and humans do not strictly separate military and civilians. Their Starfleet is on paper a civilian organization, yet their ships carry military personnel, their crews have military ranks and some of their ships are fully equipped war ships. Even their research space stations are no less armed than a purpose built battle cruiser."

"Your proposal, Centurio?"

"We have finished research on the fusion weapons. It is time to test them. The humans have several colonies not far from our space - Qualor II, the Tarod system and Galorndon Core. It may be time to test these weapons."

The Praetor turned and rested his glare on Admiral Valdore.

"Valdore, you should follow the example of Centurio Tavrus and learn how to serve the Empire. I grant you a final chance to redeem yourself. Within the month I want to hear of your plans to make this attack happen and I want it to happen before the end of the year!"

"Of course, Praetor."

"You, Centurio," the Praetor said and turned back toward Tavrus. "Supply the Admiral with all information you have. Obviously the _Tal'Shiar_ cannot be trusted with the task. But before that, you return here tomorrow. I believe a promotion is in order."

"I'm honored, Praetor."

=/\=

"Make sure you give that engine a complete overhaul," Trip instructed the teams that worked on _Horizon_ 's ancient warp 2 assembly. "Anyone scratches the signed Cochrane plaque, I'll have your ass!"

Terval gave him a thumbs-up. Trip chuckled about the stiffly presented gesture. He had really come to like that far-flung relative of his and T'Pol, but there was something weird about Vulcans trying to mimic human gestures. On the other hand it was nice to see them make the effort. Just two years ago most Vulcans would have considered that totally unacceptable.

"T'Len, how're the calculations for the altered intermix progressing?" he asked the young female on one of the mobile consoles.

"They shall be available within the hour, Commander," she answered.

The young female, an engineer on Savok's ship, was part of an engineering team that Captain Savok had practically handed over to human command. They lived on the station and with their ability to work a 12 hour shift without even getting mildly tired, they had quickly become a valuable asset.

"Good," Trip said. "Coordinate with Terval about the necessary calibrations of the injector assemblies."

The female gave a silent nod – another gesture the Vulcans had started to imitate. Before he could finish another amused chuckle, Trip was startled by a horrible whining hiss.

 _Coolant leak!_ he thought, but the hideous klaxon that started to warn the crews drowned it out.

"EVERYBODY GET OUTTA HERE!" Trip yelled. "Terval help me with the sealing!"

Trip and Terval raced over to the console that would lower the emergency bulkheads around the leak, while the sealing bulkheads that were about to seal off engineering slowly started to lower. The horrible metallic screeching meant that they had rarely been used in the half century that the old cargo hauler had been in service.

"You must get out _Krei_ Charles _,_ " Terval demanded.

"First I need to seal off the leak, you go," Trip shot back, looking over at the lowering bulkheads that now left only moments to leave engineering.

Before he knew what happened, Terval had swept him off his feet, grabbed his uniform at the collar and his butt and threw him face down through the remaining gap before the bulkheads sealed off engineering.

"Incoming!" a helplessly sliding Trip yelled, but for Anna Hess and T'Len the warning came too late and he mowed them off their feet. The three of them came to rest on the floor in a pile.

"What the hell, Chief...," Anna gasped.

"Not my fault," Trip said. "Terval's chosen a helluva time to take up bowling."

The other engineers helped them back on their feet.

"Dammit!" Trip swore. "Terval's still in there."

With a loud clunk the bulkheads closed. There was no way back to engineering now.


	20. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terval gets a surprise and the Eldest Mother makes an unexpected house call...

The automated alarm went off in the still make-shift sickbay of _Salem One_ and it took Phlox a moment to realize what it actually meant. One of Lieutenant Sato's changes and improvements to the stations communication and computer systems was to couple any critical alarms on the station to the systems in sickbay. Since the station was destined to become a repair facility and with the inherent dangers of engineering, it had been decided that any critical alarms in one of the workshops or any other engineering sections would automatically summon a medical team.

"Section C17, that's the cargo ship," Amanda said calmly and took one of the stretchers from the wall, which had been tied there for exactly such purposes.

Phlox fetched his med-kit from the office and hurried after Amanda and two other medical assistants. Not for the first time he felt a great gratitude that Amanda Cole was a trained MACO field medic. She hadn't really be used in that capacity – after all she had been promoted to the commanding officer of _Enterprise_ 's MACO detachment – but lacking any other tasks, she had handed over command of the soldiers to her XO and had recently taken to helping Phlox with the numerous injured people in the aftermath of the battle.

Phlox felt a certain sadness about the fact that she would return to her primary job when _Enterprise_ would ship out again. Never since Liz Cutler had he had such an adept assistant.

=/\=

Trip could acutely feel how the water engulfed his head. Trying to gasp for air, he took a big swig of water instead and a violent coughing set in as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. Willing himself to keep calm, he furiously splashed around in the water with his feet in a bid to return to the surface, against the weight that was dragging him toward the ground.

After a few more seconds he felt a violent tug and returned to the surface. With a big gasp, he felt air rushing back into his lungs. He looked into Amanda Cole's face, who had dragged him out of the water with grim determination.

The first thing he registered was that he was on the cold floor of Engineering and slowly the the receding panic made room for his short-time memories. As soon as the life support systems had cleared the air of most of the toxic coolant the emergency bulkheads had been opened again. He hand not waited for them to open fully, but rather dove back in.

=/\=

By the time Phlox made it to Engineering on the old UEC ship, his medics and Travis and Paul Maywheather in tow, the bulkheads were fully open, but instead of rushing back in, the engineers were lining the walls left and right – effectively creating an access lane for Phlox and his medics.

While still wondering why especially the Vulcan engineers looked uncharacteristically unsettled, Phlox stopped dead in his tracks. What he saw shook him no less than the Vulcans. Commander Tucker, wearing a dirty and torn uniform knelt beside a Vulcan, who lay flat on his back and to Phlox's shock Commander Tucker seemed to be attempting a mind-meld. If he did, it wasn't overly successful, Phlox realized. The Chief was struggling, gasping for air and coughing violently.

Without a second thought, Phlox raced to the scene and yanked Commander Tucker back by the collar. With a loud thud the human landed on the cold floor.

Quickly hovering his scanner over him, Phlox realized that the Vulcan was deeply unconscious and his life probably hung by a string, but he **was** still alive. If that would be because or despite whatever Commander Tucker had attempted to do was still to be decided.

Signaling his team to carry away the Vulcan to sickbay, Phlox turned toward Commander Tucker, who was staring at him, clutching his neck, which confused Phlox as a quick scan revealed that Commander Tucker had no respiratory problems whatsoever. In fact except for some minor, rather unusual skin burns the Commander seemed remarkably uninjured. That certainly was not a common occurrence. Whenever something went wrong in Engineering, Commander Tucker had an unnerving talent to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Why did you attempt a mind meld?" Phlox asked sternly.

"No..., no mind meld," the human still struggled as if he had been choked. "Not telepathic enough."

"So what were you doing?" Phlox asked and waited for Commander Tucker to get his breathing under control.

"I tried to see if his mind is still working," he explained. "I think he put himself in a trance to save on oxygen, but he's having a bad time. Get one of the priests to him on the double!"

"Let me decide that," Phlox began, but to his shock Commander Tucker grabbed him by the collar.

"NOW!" the human demanded and Phlox realized that the angrily flaring nostrils of the human meant that he was not open to negotiation.

"I will summon the priest," a voice from the side said and when the Engineer seemed to recognize her, he thankfully let go of Phlox's collar.

Phlox took a step back.

"I believe you should accompany me to sickbay, Commander."

Surprisingly enough the Commander acquiesced without a word.

=/\=

When the door to sickbay opened and the doctor entered with a badly disheveled Commander Tucker in tow, T'Len was still watching the elder, who was performing a healing meld on Terval. The scene was watched by herself and the human woman, who had helped carrying him here.

All her life she had been told that humans were considerably weaker than Vulcans and that female humans were yet weaker than their males, but when she had taken one end of the stretcher from a struggling young human male, she had found it quite challenging to keep up with the pace of the human female on the other end of the primitive carrying device.

Whether that considerable feat meant that the female was just an extra-ordinarily strong specimen of her species was difficult to decide, especially since her whole experience with the humans had been the last few days on the station. But another theory started to build in her mind. The human female hovered near the biobed and watched the scene visibly upset. It appeared that the female was inappropriately attracted to the Vulcan they had carried here. That would provide an alternative explanation for her sudden physical prowess.

She willed herself away from these thoughts – after all such interest in another beings attraction was inappropriate itself. She came to full consciousness just in time to notice Commander Tucker coming to a stop in front of her.

"Thank you, T'Len," he said and indicated towards the biobed and the already busy priest as an answer to her inquisitively raised eyebrow.

She answered the redundant expression of gratitude with a nod, but to her surprise she found that, strangely, such acknowledgment of her actions was not at all disagreeable.

"When this is over," she heard the Commander still addressing her. "I want you to come to my office. I think it is time we talk about your place on the engineering team."

"Did I not fulfill my duties adequately?"

"Adequately?" the human said. "You're one of the best, T'Len. I don't wanna kick you out. I want to increase your responsibilities. But more on that later. Phlox and his pets are waiting."

The human walked away and T'Len left sickbay to return to engineering. There was a coolant leak to investigate.

=/\=

Phlox dimmed the lights of sickbay and put the privacy screens back into place.

"I think you should go to rest now, Ms. Cole," he said softly. "I'm sure Terval would appreciate your company, but it doesn't help if you succumb to exhaustion."

Nodding, the woman stood up from the chair at Terval's side - very reluctantly.

"You like him a lot, don't you?" Phlox asked.

She only nodded and blushed slightly, which to Phlox was rather amusing.

"Commander Tucker would probably say 'this comes out of left field'," Phlox said and offered her a cup of tea from his office. "I believe that is a sporting reference of some kind."

"Thanks, yes it is," Amanda answered and took the offered cup and took a seat.

"I do not wish to hurt you, Master Sergeant, but you should keep in mind that Terval is most likely betrothed to a Vulcan female and only few Vulcans are really amendable to enter an interspecies relationship."

"He isn't betrothed," Amanda said. "He was married, but his mate died during the bombardment of the Forge."

Phlox gasped slightly. "He told you that?"

Amanda nodded again. "We've been working for days to investigate the sleepers. We spent several days together and for a Vulcan he was quite interested in humans and me in particular. That's when it hit me," she admitted, blushing.

"Ah that is why the Captain kept me waiting until I could finally welcome you to our ranks," Phlox said with a knowing smile.

"We talked a lot, really. He's of the same clan as Trip and wants to know more about humans."

"Sharing such a delicate detail as the death of his mate is quite an intimate gesture, coming from a Vulcan," Phlox said. "I of course cannot tell if Terval returns your affection, but he appears to be quite comfortable around you."

"I think it's more than that," a voice from the door said and Phlox saw Commander Tucker approaching.

"I'm sorry to barge in like that," he said. "But you didn't really notice that I entered a couple moments ago already."

"It's ok," Amanda said, but Phlox did not necessarily agree. He did not like someone to intrude in his talks with other crew members.

Commander Tucker took a seat and looked at Amanda.

"When I tried to reach his mind, I found myself drowning in the sea. If I would be able to meld properly, I would have known what's going on, but I only could pick up stray thoughts and emotions – whatever was resonating from his last conscious minutes. During my telepathy training I learned to transform Vulcan emotions and thought pattern to images. That could only mean he had put himself into the trance to save on oxygen when he came close to asphyxiation."

"That's why you had breathing problems," Phlox pointed out.

"Exactly," the Commander said. "The most amazing thing though was that I got rescued and it had nothing to do with you yanking me away Phlox."

"What happened?" Amanda asked and to Phlox it appeared as if she was most fascinated by that insight into the Vulcan's mind.

"You, dragged me out of the water, Amanda," Commander Tucker said. "His last conscious thought must have been about you and trust me for a Vulcan that means a tad more than just being 'comfortable' around you."

Phlox watched the face of Amanda Cole turn to a deep red color. No other species gave away so much about their emotions by changing the color of their skin.

"In fact, I think we should try something," Commander Tucker said and stood up to walk over to the biobed, indicating Phlox and Amanda to follow.

"What do you have in mind?" Phlox asked and grabbed a scanner.

"That," he answered and pointed at the device in Phlox's hand. "Have his vital signs increased since T'Pol and I were in here this afternoon?"

"No," Phlox said sadly. "In fact his heart stopped two times. But with Ms. Cole always at his side we could at least react very soon. It will also take days to get all the toxins out of his blood."

"Now Amanda, take his hand," the Commander instructed and Phlox had to fight another monstrous smile about the enthusiasm with which she followed that order.

To Phlox's surprise she didn't merely grab the Vulcan's hand. She took it and put it on her cheek with a tenderness that Phlox thought was in stark contrast to the image of the battle-hardened MACO. He was sure that this was what she had wanted to do all day, but hadn't dared to, knowing that Vulcans were adverse to uninvited contact.

"Check the vitals, doc," Commander Tucker instructed.

"Fascinating," Phlox mused, double-checking his data. "It's not a drastic improvement, but his heart beat becomes more regular than any time he has been here. Why did you not tell me before?"

"Because I was too thick to make the connection. T'Pol worked out, what that scene with Amanda dragging me out of the water meant. His mind is not exactly working on all thrusters right now, but once he'll recognize Amanda the impact should be more pronounced."

"Then it is fortunate that Ms. Cole seems to relish this task," Phlox said in a low voice, watching the female gently tending to the Vulcan's hand.

"Help me with the biobed, Phlox?"

"I believe I know what you have in mind," Phlox huffed as he helped the Commander in positioning a second biobed right next to Terval's.

"King size biobed, ma'am," Commander Tucker announced. "The honeymoon suite is all yours."

"You're something else Trip," Amanda said and Phlox watched the short hug of the two humans with a broad smile.

"Jus' tak'n care 'o cousin Terv," the Commander said in what sounded like a deliberately exaggerated form of his native dialect.

Phlox put the privacy screen around the two biobeds, while Commander Tucker took his leave with a silent gesture of his hand.

Just as the human had done when he left, Phlox wore a big smile.

=/\=

Trip was sitting in his office, wading through the report that T'Len had produced in painstakingly complex detail. According to her investigation the _Horizon_ had been running with too much coolant, but that problem was never detected, because – unbelievably – the old engines had never been taken completely offline for over six years.

Unfortunately the engines had finally given out and the pressure, building up over days, had finally ruptured one of the pipes. What he found even more unsettling were the calculations of how much coolant had escaped. The sheer amount of it would have killed him almost instantly, had Terval not – literally – decided to throw him out.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door chime. It couldn't be one of his engineers as they all knew that this was unnecessary if the unlocked indicator flashed on his door.

"Come," he said and to his surprise it was Captain Savok.

"Commander Tucker, I wish to speak with you."

"Have a seat Captain. What can I do for you?"

"It has come to my knowledge that you have appointed T'Len as the head of our engineering team. While Vulcans consider it illogical to appoint such a junior officer to such a position, I have come to realize that humans often think about options we do not see. I wished to inquire about the reason."

Trip smiled. Of all the Vulcans currently at the station, Savok was probably most interested in how the humans went about things. Ok, there was Terval, too, but his interest was more of a personal nature.

"I thought you'd wonder about that," Trip said. "Bear with me as I tell you a longer story."

The Vulcan raised an interested eyebrow.

"During the Vulcan crisis, after the bombing of the Embassy, we had Ambassador Soval on board. Since the Captain and T'Pol were down on the surface, I was ranking officer. I asked him, how a numbnut like V'Las could have been elected. He said that Vulcan society works based on merit, that V'Las had been appointed, because he had shown a talent for governing."

"Unfortunately his talent for subterfuge went unnoticed," Savok replied dryly.

"That, too," Trip agreed with a smile. "But that's what my decision was based on. She might be young, but T'Len has a talent for leading. That's why I made her the head of your engineering group. While we're at it. I never came round to thank you for appointing them to the station. They're a big help."

"It was the logical thing to do," Savok said. "I am however surprised about your assessment of T'Len. In fact my chief engineer often finds her work less than agreeable."

"Let me guess. He's not fond of her knack for doing things herself without asking beforehand."

"Her predilection for self-appointment is his most common grievance," Savok agreed.

"See, that's why she's so brilliant," Trip said with a satisfied smile. "Your engineers are all brilliant, but they wouldn't see the work if it pleasured them in the back of a shuttle pod."

Savok raised an eyebrow. "I do not understand."

"Look, your engineers can do just about everything and usually faster than any of my own engineers. But you have to tell them. Once they finished a task, they show up in here asking for a new one."

"Let me give you an example," Trip continued. "Since we're still trying to get this engine up to specs, injectors running out of sync is more or less a daily occurrence. Two days ago Somon came in here reporting that injector two and four were out of sync. He even reported the percentage to three decimal positions. I ordered him to correct it and he did. Yesterday T'Len came in here, reported that three and four had been out of sync and that she has corrected the problem. See what I mean?"

"You appear to value autonomy," Savok said.

"That's what you need in engineering," Trip said. "It might be ok to only act when ordered in quiet times like now, but if we have an emergency or a battle situation, I need engineers that don't need instructions on everything."

"Would that not be dangerous?" Savok asked. "Someone may misinterpret data or autonomously take on a task too complex for his skills."

"That's a danger that certainly exists," Trip agreed. "But that's what separates a good engineer from a brilliant one. A brilliant engineer knows his limits. T'Len certainly does. Seriously, appointing her as head of the crew is the easiest decision I've made lately. If you weren't an ally, I would have no qualms to poach her and offer her a place on my team."

"That may just as well be a possibility," Savok said. "I do understand your logic now, but unfortunately we are not a very adaptable species. What you obviously value in her work, will still be seen as disruptive on my ship. Maybe some of the more 'flexible' of our people are better suited to service in Starfleet."

"That's something I didn't expect to hear from a Vulcan," Trip said with amazement. "Not even Soval – and he's a clansman of mine."

"Many of us – to my shame, myself included – have so far seen humans as an inferior species," Savok admitted. "Only now we start to learn just how much we have been misinformed. All it would have taken was a look at our own world to see the extent of our folly."

"I'm afraid I can't follow you," Trip said.

"One of the main preconceptions that marred our perception of your species where your unrestrained emotions and your lack of inhibition to express them. We were taught that this is disgusting. But so, in our culture is the thought of consuming the flesh of animals. While we do not consume meat, we have no inhibitions to feed it to our domesticated sehlats."

"Well, them being predators it is only logical," Trip offered.

"That is the point, Commander. We know that sehlats need meat to survive, but we didn't acknowledge that humans need to express their emotions to survive. There is no logic to that oversight."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Trip said with an encouraging smile. "If it makes you feel better, we've done some much more stupid stuff in the past – and we've overcome it."

Savok looked at him questioningly.

"Do you know our helmsman, Travis Maywheather or his brother, the captain of the freighter?"

"I do know Lieutenant Maywheather. One of my pilots has spent a considerable amount of time in exchange of information about flying techniques with him."

"See, three hundred years ago, Travis would have been a slave – considered an inferior being."

"Why?" Savok asked.

"His skin color," Trip said. "He's black."

"What importance has the color of the skin? We have a southern province on Vulcan, where a dark toned skin is predominant, but they are in no way different from the rest of the population."

"Yeah, so aren't black people on our world. But still, three hundred years ago they were considered inferior, simply because their skin had a different color. Maybe your misjudgment of humans doesn't seem so bad any more."

"Indeed," Savok agreed. "It appears both of our people had a lot to learn and still have."

=/\=

As every evening in the past week, Phlox had dimmed the lights, once the last assistant had left. With many of the injured released from sickbay, it was now a lot more quite in the Denobulans realm.

Amanda sat at the side of Terval's bed, gently stroking his hand and whispering to him. Once Phlox had learned of the mutual attraction that seemed to build between her and the Vulcan, he had practically relieved her of duty to give her the time to stay in contact with the still unconscious male.

Slowly she got out of her chair. She laid down on the second biobed, as she had done every night for days and rested her head on the muscular chest of the Vulcan, her arm slung around his waist. Within minutes she had fallen into a deep slumber.

=/\=

The light grew stronger and stronger, as did the strange noises in the background. They seemed to come from a congregation of various animals. Judging by the intensity of the sounds they did not seem to be agreeable to some circumstances of their existence.

What Terval most acutely noticed, however, was the light pressure on his chest. He had recognized the constant presence of foreign emotions in his mind and even in his trance, a condition hovering somewhere between death and life, he had identified the 'intruder' as the female, who had captivated him in just a few days of acquaintance – Amanda Cole.

He squinted his eyes as he slowly came to. The animal noises were still there, but now much more subdued and the glowing light was gone. Instead the lights were dimmed.

Casting his eyes down Terval assessed the situation. Amanda's head was resting on his chest and her arm was slung around his waist. This was unknown to him. Even his deceased wife would .never have sought such intimate proximity, but then he thought, they had only been married for two years and had lived through only a single _pon farr_. They never had had the chance to develop the deep connection with each other that married couples developed over the years. And now he found himself with an alien female wrapped around him and he found it to be a strangely agreeable sensation.

Suddenly he noticed two eyes looking at him. Obviously she had woken up while he was distracted by his thoughts.

"Well, Hi there," she said and Terval answered with a raised eyebrow.

"I hope you're not angry. Trip thought it might help you," she said and to Terval's confusion her face discolored. He had observed that effect several times in the latter days of their acquaintance, especially at times when their eyes had made contact. He made a mental note to ask _krei_ T'Pol about the meaning of such effect.

"I do not at all find it disagreeable," he answered, which obviously amused her.

"That good, huh?" she asked with a smile and he found himself lost for an answer, so a raised eyebrow had to suffice. "How are you doing? Shall I get Phlox?"

"I think we can wait until the Doctor comes to check his readings," he answered. "You said this form of... therapy was _krei_ Charles' idea?"

She nodded, something he had learned to mean 'yes'. He had been rather confused by that at first. Humans had developed several gestures to signal agreement – nodding their heads, raising their thumb. Illogically all those gestures took longer to perform than just speaking the word they were designed to signal. The only logical explanation he had come up with was that they were probably designed to be used in situations where the less acute human hearing made it impossible to hear each other, but strangely they used them even if such limitations didn't apply.

"When he found you in engineering, Trip sort of attempted a mind-meld. He says that he can't really meld, but managed to find out that you were in some sort of trance."

Terval raised the brow again. Obviously _krei_ Charles had much better telepathic abilities than any other human.

"He said you last thought was about me and that contact might help you," she continued and he could see the changing face color again. This time however, he had an unknown sensation of feeling heat building up in his face. Could that be the same that made the human face change color?

"I find it hard to speak about such things," he answered.

"Was Trip right?"

Unable to find the right words, Terval did what he had recently learned – he nodded. Maybe that was another use for these gestures...

To his surprise Amanda was not offended. She even intensified the contact.

"Are you scared?" she asked.

"Why should I be frightened? You are hardly a danger to me."

"No, I mean, with your arranged marriages and stuff..."

He looked at her while she was trying to find the right words.

"I mean you Vulcans probably aren't supposed to suddenly find someone attractive. Hell, I'm scared by the fact that I fell for a Vulcan in a matter of days," she admitted.

"It is an unsettling sensation, but not at all disagreeable," he answered, eliciting another bright smile from the female. He realized that it was a most pleasing sight.

"The question is: What do we do about it?" she asked and Terval could hear genuine insecurity. The humans were so easy to read.

"I believe _krei_ Charles mentioned a ritual called 'courtship' once. Would that be an agreeable reaction?"

She let out a giggle and Terval decided that the sound, which would be grossly inappropriate coming from a Vulcan, was even more agreeable than seeing her smile.

It had however alerted Phlox, too and the intimate moment came to an abrupt end.

=/\=

T'Pol opened her eyes. As many times before she had woken up five minutes before the alarm went off. That allowed her to mute it affording her mate a few additional minutes of peaceful slumber. After the hectic last days, he certainly could use the additional rest.

Even though _krei_ Terval had been discharged from sickbay two days ago and returned to duty with a clean bill of health, Trip had not let him rejoin the engineering team, claiming that Amanda would 'have my butt in a sling', if something were to happen to Terval again. That's why she had integrated Terval into her science team.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the com chime and to her dismay it woke up Trip, too.

"T'Pol," she identified herself.

"Sorry to wake you so early," Hoshi said. "There's an incoming transmission for Commander Tucker."

"Who is it, Hoshi?" he asked sleepily.

"It's the Eldest Mother."

=/\=

Trip shot up from the bed and jumped into his uniform in record time.

"Patch her through Hoshi," he said while hastily trying to get his disheveled hair under control.

The face of T'Para appeared on the screen.

Trip nodded in a regal manner. "Greetings Eldest. Please forgive my appearance. Your call came unexpected."

"Greetings, son of my clan. I have a question of importance to ask. I received a transmission from Terval. He asked my consent to 'court' a human female. Are you familiar with that?"

"Do you inquire about courtship or the fact that _krei_ Terval plans to do so?"

Trip could feel the pride of T'Pol resonating in his mind and he guessed it had to do with his control of language. She probably knew, how difficult it was for him to speak in such a controlled manner.

"I do not understand the purpose of the activity," T'Para answered. "But since he asked by consent I surmise he seeks a betrothal."

"Something like that, Eldest," Trip agreed. "During the aftermath of the accident in Engineering it became obvious that _krei_ Terval has developed an affection for Amanda and that this affection is mutual. I was not aware that they decided to enter a formal courtship. Basically it means that two people, who are attracted to each other spend time together – sharing meals, attending recreational activities together. That sort of thing."

"Does that include mating?" T'Para asked bluntly, causing Trip to cough in surprise and uneasiness.

"That question is difficult to answer, Eldest. There are couples, who decide to withhold the physical side of their relationship until after marriage. Others get to it before marriage. It mainly depends on the individuals involved, so I'm afraid I'm unable to answer your question conclusively."

"Do you know the female?"

"Yes, Eldest, I've known her for years. She is the commanding officer of our MACO detachment."

"Is she a worthy mate for a son of our clan?" came the blunt follow-up question.

"Not a shadow of a doubt, Eldest," he answered.

"Then he shall have my consent," T'Para decreed. "What will happen when your vessel ships out again. Does the separation not impede this 'courtship' ritual?"

"As we humans say, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Trip said. "Several of the Vulcans around here have expressed an interest in switching from service in the Vulcan fleet to service in Starfleet. We will soon lose our First Officer as he gets his own ship in about six months. Terval has the experience."

"Do you truly believe that Earth will allow two Vulcans to be the highest ranking officers on their first deep space vessel?" T'Para asked with a raised eyebrow. That was as much of a reaction Trip had seen from her so far.

"Times change, Eldest," Trip said. "There was reluctance to allow T'Pol take command of _Enterprise_. Now, nobody would dare to question that she has done a perfect job of it. A second ship is commanded by an Andorian and _Enterprise_ is no longer the flagship."

A sudden jolt of arousal hit him square in his mind. Obviously the praise in front of the Eldest was having an effect on his dear wife, but Trip forced himself not to react to it.

"See to it that they are not separated if this 'courtship' is successful, son of our clan," T'Para demanded.

"As you wish, Eldest."

With that the connection abruptly went dark.

"Hung up on me again," Trip mumbled and looked over at T'Pol, who looked at him with a strange glance. To Trip it seemed to be... greedy.

"How did I do, darlin'?"

Instead of answering, he saw her slowly pull the blanket aside to reveal that she had removed her silk pajamas, awaiting him stark naked. Obviously it had been more than just a short jolt of arousal and Trip took it to mean that he had indeed done well.

"At your service, ma'am," he said with a chuckle and hastily peeled the uniform off.

 


	21. You Take This Man...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon cramps Malcolm's timing, Admiral Gardner is driving himself and T'Len nearly gives Rostov an inferiority complex

"Almost like old times," Archer said and took a look around the table.

"Except that captain's mess would have been way too small for the audience and you only served juice," Trip said and Jon raised his beer mug in response.

"Are you planning to run a full-fledged restaurant," he asked and pointed at his richly ornamented mug, that also sported a lid that one had to thumb open at the handle. "Quite impressive handiwork."

"Yep, our two Germans outdid themselves," Trip said with a smile. "Of course they could have made some nuts and bolts to get the hang of working with the new resequencer, but instead they used up three days worth of cr... er... I mean material... to get hold of potter's clay to make these."

Jon chuckled about the stare Trip received from his better half. There was no doubt that he had saved a major language infraction in the nick of time.

"I'm surprised that you let them get away with it, T'Pol," Jon asked with a smile. "Somehow I can't imagine you letting us get away with something like that a few years ago."

"I was hardly in a position to 'let you get away' with anything," T'Pol replied. "As I remember, **you** were the Captain at that time."

"Come one, you know what he means," Malcolm snorted with a chuckle. "You wouldn't have let him hear the end of it."

"Possibly," T'Pol admitted drily and Jon was amazed at how proficient she had become at bantering with people. It was good to see Trip and T'Pol healed so well after all the tragedies of the last two years. _Speaking of healing,_ he thought and cast a glance at Erika, who had made the trip over to _Salem One,_ but had not said much so far.

"You ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered with a smile. "I'm just enjoying this."

=/\=

"'Nother one?" Trip asked and raised his mug.

"I'm not sure," Jon said and cast a cautious glance at Erika, who smiled back indulgently.

"Don't worry," Trip said, while refilling the mugs from a small keg. "It's pretty lightweight stuff. After Mattes and Kriegel knocked out Malcolm and me with _Bock_ beer a couple of months ago, T'Pol threatened them with 'serious consequences' if they ever brewed up that 'hazardous substance' again."

"Wouldn't I have wanted to see that?" Jon laughed.

"God no!" Hoshi said, giggling. "You wouldn't believe the snoring!"

Their laughter was interrupted by a com chime.

"Lieutenant Maywheather to Captain T'Pol."

"T'Pol here."

"The _Horizon_ is ready to leave. I would like to request permission to see them off."

"Permission granted. Have Lt. Taylor take ops."

"Aye, Captain."

"Still as enthusiastic as on the first trip," Jon said.

"Who wouldn't be," Trip said with a grin and a look at T'Pol. "The Vulcans were all over him the last two weeks. Not that the Vulcans would ever hero-worship, **of course** , but he had to take Enterprise out three times to show them how he flew the ship just by mechanical instruments."

"So now you are not only ruining my former XO, but other Vulcans as well," Jon laughed.

"Hardly," T'Pol joined in. "This is the first ever joint operation of Vulcan and Earth that spans any considerable length of time. It is a good sign that my people are willing to learn. That has not always been our strong suit."

"You could say that," Jon said with a smile. "They must have learned a lot. Gardner sent me a message this morning, saying that 20 of the Vulcans want to switch sides. He wants me to ask you about that."

"There are a couple, who would work better with us," Trip explained. "Look, before the Kir'Shara T'Pol has been considered a maverick, because she dared to make her own decisions. Now that they realize that it is anything but abnormal, others come to the fore, who think the same."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Erika asked.

"Well, yes," Trip continued. "But most other Vulcans are still uncomfortable with that. See, there's this young engineer, T'Len. She is a brilliant engineer and she gets on with the job. If something needs doing, she does it."

"That's what makes a good engineer," Jon said.

"Yes, but other Vulcans see that as disruptive," Trip said. "You wouldn't believe the negative performance reviews she's gotten just for doing things that needed to be done without waiting for someone's order to do so."

"Ah, I think I get it," Jon said. "I can see how she would fit in better with us. I'm just not sure how the Vulcans are going to react if we poach their people. And then there's the thing about marrying and them having to return home for a year."

"All Vulcans in the fleet are married or widowed," T'Pol explained.

"You aren't married," Jon pointed out.

"And I was not supposed to be stationed on a spaceship. Remember that the original mission was only supposed to last eight days. And I am married now."

"When did you... ?" Jon asked and Trip felt his friends glance on him.

"Well, we don't have a sheet of paper to show for it," Trip explained. "But according to Vulcan tradition, we are married. Having it witnessed is a mere formality. And quite frankly, that's all we need."

"Wow," Erika exclaimed, eliciting a sheepish shrug from Trip.

"So, Malcolm, when are you and Hoshi gonna tie the knot," Archer teased.

Trip heard Malcolm mutter: "Bad timing."

He fixed his glance on Malcolm and said nonchalantly: "As good a time as any, Mal."

=/\=

Erika watched the quite Brit with amazement. She hadn't known the reserved Commander personally so far, but during the few meals that Commander Tucker had shared with her during his short-lived stint as chief engineer on _Columbia_ he had talked way more often about _Enterprise_ 's introverted tactical officer than he had relayed tall tales about her captain.

She watched him get up slowly and for a moment she thought the man would just run out of the room. If Trip's stories were any indication, her better half's innocent question had just hit a very sensitive spot in the armor of the reserved Brit. To her amazement, he didn't run, but instead he fished a small object from his pocket and sank down to his knee and took the hand of a clearly flabbergasted Hoshi.

"You know that you're in love when you can't sleep, because reality is finally better than the dreams. Over the last months I lost quite some sleep, because reality definitely exceeds **my** dreams. Hoshi Sato, would you bestow the honor upon me to become my wife?"

Erika lost it. Her vision became blurry as she followed the proposal.

"Yes," was all a crying Hoshi was able to get out and suddenly the room was filled with Trip and Jon's cheers and to Erika's surprise both of them were watering up as well. She didn't know much about Vulcans, but she had never seen one with so few control over her face. Captain T'Pol's nostrils were flaring and her eyebrows were twitching nervously.

"You did plan that," she heard T'Pol say with a voice that was remarkably thick with emotions.

"I would have preferred a more private setting," Malcolm answered, gently rubbing the back of Hoshi, who was still helplessly crying in his arms. "But the Commodore cramped my timing. Trip and I had been talking about the best moment to come forward. I guess the timing wasn't that important after all."

"You couldn't have chosen a better time," Erika sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "Congratulations, Commander."

=/\=

"What is it?" Trip asked, when he noticed that T'Pol did not seem to be able to find sleep. Normally she would fall asleep quickly after an intense bout of love-making and after Malcolm's proposal today's bout had been **very** intense.

"I'm honored that Malcolm and Hoshi asked me to marry them, however, I am unsure if I will able to perform that task adequately."

"You did well, when you married McInally and Kusnezova, so why shouldn't you be able pull it off again?"

"They were crew members from which I had a professional detachment. Hoshi and Malcolm are our friends."

"So you want it to be special," Trip said.

She nodded, her head still resting on his chest.

"Don't worry, we'll work on that. It's not like I'm gonna be far."

He noticed T'Pol lift her head and although the darkness didn't allow him to see much, he knew that T'Pol was probably staring at him with an unspoken request for clarification.

"Who do you think did Malcolm ask to be his best man?"

Her head sank back to his chest.

"I will be in need of your help. I do not trust my control."

"You'll do fine," he said. It didn't need much explaining. He had seen himself that Malcolm's proposal had nearly shattered her control.

=/\=

When Erika hobbled towards the Engineering office, she had to push down her uneasiness about being seen by any crew members. Even though her rehab program was still going on, it would still take weeks until she could walk more than a few hundred meters before running out of power. Dr. Phlox had happily taken over from _Atlantis_ ' doctor and however unpleasant his treatment had been, that slimy thing he had allowed to crawl all over her legs every day surely was effective. That was only the second time she had dared to make the journey from the ship to the station and this time she had managed to do so without Jon supporting her half of the way.

"Good grief," she heard and before she knew, she felt two hands on her arms that directed her into a chair in the office, into which she sat down, panting."

"Erika, why didn't you say something?" Trip asked. "and where's Jon?"

"Jon's over on the ship. Someone's got to keep the shop running," she said and smiled. "Could you get your wife down here?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Just call her, OK, or do I have to pull rank?"

=/\=

T'Pol entered the office in engineering, not quite yet sure, why her mate had insisted on her coming down. When she entered, she found Trip looking at her and Captain Hernandez in a chair, looking clearly exhausted.

"You wished to see me?"

"Erika does," he said.

"What can we help you with, Captain?"

"Well, Commander Reed asked you to marry him yesterday and I was wondering if you would extend the same courtesy to Jon and me?"

"I'll be damned!" Trip exclaimed.

"Well, looks like he got an inspiration yesterday," Erika said sheepishly. "Although I'm glad he did it privately."

"Was is that corny?" Trip asked, laughing. T'Pol thoroughly relished the sound.

"Not really, but – and I did not tell you this – when he got up after kneeling down before me, I swear to god – his bones creaked."

T'Pol looked on as both humans hugged each other, laughing helplessly. Considering the rather unpleasant events of the last few weeks, seeing her husband in such a pandemonium was most pleasing. She had long since given up to pretend that 'Vulcans do not enjoy'.

She still wasn't sure whether or not it was proper to enjoy laughter about an apparent ailment, but considering that Commodore Archer's mate herself was doing so, she decided that it was more likely some form of metaphor rather than a real ailment.

"Now I have another problem," Erika said, still out of breath from her giggle fit. "Phlox doesn't happen to have a wheelchair, does he? I'm not sure I'm going to make it back."

"Ah we'll take care of that," Trip said and crouched down in front of her, presenting his back."

"I'm not so sure that a piggy back ride is a dignified way to travel for a Captain," Erika giggled. "But what the heck, I feel giddy enough!"

=/\=

As Trip rounded another T-Junction, he saw a solitary figure walk through the corridor in front of them.

"Delively fol Mistel Alchel," he sang in a high pitched voice and a faux Chinese Accent.

Jon turned around and doubled over, seeing his wife-to-be piggy-back riding his former Chief Engineer.

"What the heck is that about," he managed between chuckles.

"Have you any idea how far it is to Engineering?" Erika mock-complained.

"You know, I could have asked them, too," Jon admonished softly, guessing what had brought Erika to Engineering. "Did any of the crew see you?"

"Don't worry. Except for a few of Trip's engineers, nobody saw us. Up until two junctions ago, T'Pol ran interference and scared everybody away. Her stare must be something else," Erika said and dismounted her 'steed'.

Jon couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks Trip," she said and placed a small peck on his cheek. "I think I'll manage from here."

"Listen," Trip said. "I hope you two don't take it the wrong way, but this wedding probably won't be a double feature. Mal and Hoshi deserve the spotlight. Is it ok, if T'Pol marries you a week or two later?"

"Don't worry Trip," Jon said. "We waited – what – 12 years? Two more weeks won't kill us. And I agree - Malcolm and Hoshi shouldn't have to share their big day with us. We want a rather quite ceremony, anyway. Just my former and Erikas current senior staff. Knowing Hoshi, she wants a HUGE ceremony."

"You bet," Trip said with a smile. "That'll make it easier for T'Pol, too. She's still uncomfortable being the center of attention. She'll suffer through it for Mal and Hoshi, but a big crowd twice in a few weeks might be a bit much."

"Yeah, that's what we thought, too. We're a few days too old for the whole white dress and rice throwing routine anyway. All we want to do is getting married quietly," Jon answered and wondered, why Trip and Erika started giggling like school children.

=/\=

"Now, Mr. Terval, I expect you to take it easy," Phlox lectured. "Captain T'Pol has been informed that you are limited to light duty for another week."

"Of course doctor. What are the limitations on... recreational activities?" he asked and wondered why the doctor broke into a smile. What was a rather pleasing sight on Amanda's face, looked rather unnaturally distorted on the doctor's face.

"Now, I would stay away from any … strenuous activity for a few days."

"Doctor!" he heard Amanda's scandalized cry as she came rushing out of his office.

"Do not be concerned," Terval replied, trying to ignore the unfamiliar heat building up in his face. "That would be fairly... premature."

"At least one man, who manages to keep his mind out of the gutter," Amanda huffed and snaked her arm around his.

Not knowing what to do, Terval looked blankly at their intertwined arms and waited for further instructions.

"How are we supposed to continue?" he asked after a few moments.

"We walk," Amanda answered with a giggle. "Let's get you to the mess hall. You must be sick of the food here."

"I would not put it in such drastic terms, but the variety leaves something to be desired."

"Thought so," Amanda said and lead him out of Phlox's domain.

=/\=

_two months later_

It was a quite day in the operations center of _Salem One_ and T'Pol allowed her thoughts to roam free. Terval had returned to duty and would man the engineering station for the next four hours. That was as far as Trip had been willing to compromise. He would allow him to monitor the systems from the ops center, but engineering was off-limits. Obviously her mate was not inclined to have to explain another injury of a clansman on his watch. The fact that Amanda Cole would probably seek retaliatory action in that case, too, added another layer of logic to that decision.

Since all available engineers were needed to construct a myriad of workshops and repair facilities, the monitoring was entirely handled by engineers who were limited to light duty as a result of their injuries from the battle and/or injuries during work. That freed up valuable resources for the myriad of jobs that needed doing.

"We're being hailed by the...," Hoshi suddenly stopped and looked over at Malcolm before returning to her task. "by the _Buran._ "

T'Pol ordered a channel to be opened and the face of Admiral Gardner appeared on the Screen. He sat at the helm and the dim light meant that he was on the battle bridge.

" _Salem One_ , we have a delivery for Commander Reed," he said.

"Did you experience problems, Admiral?" T'Pol asked.

"Because the Chief of Naval Operations is driving himself?" Gardner asked back to which T'Pol nodded.

"Don't worry Captain. I wanted to come out to _Salem One_ anyway. So instead of getting on Curtis' nerves over on _Endeavour,_ I thought I'd join the skeleton crew on _Buran._ I've been getting fat behind my desk for too long anyway."

"Understood. What is your ETA?"

"We'll be there in 12 hours."

"We have only one operational docking port of the required size but we can undock _Atlantis_ if necessary."

"Not necessary," Gardner answered. "As soon as the skeleton crew is back on _Endeavour_ they'll leg it back to Earth. We can't have all our NX ships at _Salem One_. Just have a shuttle on standby to ferry 9 people to _Endeavour_."

"Acknowledged, Admiral."

"Gardner out."

=/\=

_Salem One, Feb 16th 2156_

"Admiral on deck," Malcolm called out and all attendees went to attention, while a crewman blew the boson's whistle.

"Welcome aboard, Admiral," T'Pol intoned.

"Thank you Captain. Can someone direct the crew to the shuttle pod?"

T'Pol nodded to Hoshi.

"Follow me," Hoshi said and walked off with the nine men of the skeleton crew, who had flown _Buran_ here."

"Captain," Gardner continued. "I'll stay in the captains quarters of the ship for the time being. Call in a staff meeting for 1400. I want Jon there, Erika, you, your better half, Commander Reed and Lt. Sato."

"As you wish, Admiral."

"We've stuffed _Buran_ to the gills with cargo. Have some crews start unloading, but make sure to unload everything. We've used a lot of the quarters for additional cargo space. Your quartermaster already has received a detailed manifest."

=/\=

"You look like you have a question again," Gardner snickered, while he and Trip were waiting for the other officers to arrive in _Salem One_ 's spacious situation room.

"Plenty actually," Trip admitted. "I'm surprised to see you out here and considering that _Endeavour_ took off like scalded cat, it looks as if you're preparing to stay."

"I'll stay for at least a month," Gardner said. "We better wait for the others to arrive though. I don't feel like explaining the same thing five times."

One after the other, the other officers arrived, while Trip and Gardner sipped their coffee in companionable silence.

"Ok, everybody," Gardner opened, once all officers had taken a seat. "You're probably wondering what I'm doing out here, so I'll just cut to the chase. Starfleet is quite impressed what you have done with this station in just a few weeks. So - in best Starfleet tradition - they've changed their plans again."

Snorts could be heard from around the table.

"In addition to being a repair and field hospital facility they want to make _Salem One_ a full-fledged outpost – the full program – commanded by a flag officer, ambassadorial staff, the lot."

"And they chose you?" Jon asked.

"Not me, no," Gardner said and shook his head. I went out here, because it isn't everyday that twenty Vulcans want to jump ship and ask for a Starfleet commission. You might not know this yet, but we have ten Andorians waiting for their papers, too - all survivors of the _Kumari._ A few other Andorians, who were with you for the first two weeks after the battle, are thinking about it, too. We have to find a way to make this work without looking as if we're poaching personnel from our allies by the bucket load."

"Maybe we should just give Trip and T'Pol a job in recruiting," Jon snickered.

Another round of amusement spread around the table.

"So, if it isn't you, who'll take over here?" Trip asked. "Zhukov?"

"How can you know?" Gardner asked back and looked at Trip with astonishment.

"Just a hunch," Trip said with a shrug. "He loves to brag about his ancestry. Bored the hell out of us with it during the Warp 3 program. Now that he's an admiral, I figured the top brass would find a way to let him prove his mettle instead of resting on the laurels of the ol' Marshall's exploits at Stalingrad and Berlin forever."

Gardner started laughing. "I'm happy you're not an admiral, Tucker. You'd wreck all the petty office politics. I officially never said that, but you've nailed it. Rear Admiral Zhukov will take over _Salem One_ in April."

"Which leaves little to guess about when we will leave," Trip replied.

"Most of you will," Gardner explained. "Commander Reed will leave in a month and give me a lift home on _Buran._ Which means you have two weeks to review your options for officers. We still need time to cart them out here."

"Will some of the Vulcans be commissioned by then?" Malcolm asked and Trip had an idea where this was going.

"I can't promise, but some of them will. The quicker Commander Tucker's teams manage to set up an office for me, the earlier I can start the field evaluations. Do you have someone specific in mind?"

"Well, there's the Vulcan lady Trip's so impressed with. She's flexible and finished the investigation into the _Horizon_ accident all by herself. She'd make a fine Chief Engineer."

"Didn't you say she was rather young?" Garder asked Trip.

"Well, for obvious reasons I don't know her exact age, but yes, she's a junior Engineer. Mind you, she is junior on a Vulcan ship. She's been an Engineer for 15 years. For the Vulcans that's a week, for us that's ChiefEng material. Just remember where we were 15 years ago."

"Good thing they are used to holding a rank for a long time," Gardner snickered. "Else we would have all of them starting out as Commodores."

"Looks like you need to speed up your preparations Hoshi," Trip said.

"What preparations?" Gardner asked.

"Well, you picked a helluva time to get out here," Trip said with a grin. "Malcolm and Hoshi are getting married and shortly after Jon and Erika, too."

"Well congratulations," Gardner beamed. "Jon and Erika was bound to happen sooner or later, but Commander Reed surprises me. You are not really known for impulsiveness."

"Well, Sir," Malcolm answered sheepishly.

"At least for the two of you I have a fitting wedding present already," Gardner said and pointed at his rank insignia. "I suppose your choice of Communication officer is obvious?"

"Of course, Sir,"

=/\=

Trip weaved and side-stepped his way through the hordes of engineers, who rushed back and forth carrying building materials, office supplies and tools. Finally he saw, who he as looking for.

"Anna!"

"Yes, Chief?" she yelled back.

"How are the support beams coming? When can we start on the panelling of Gardner's office?"

"T'Len and Misha are already on it."

Now Trip understood, why Anna kept lurking about here. Leaving Rostov alone with a not at all unattractive female was obviously not something that came lightly to her, even if said female was married. He made a mental note to take her to the side later. A friendly reminder about not letting personal feelings influence her job was due.

He continued his way and entered what would soon be Gardner's office.

"Wow," he said, seeing that T'Len and Rostov had already completed two walls.

"Thank T'Len," Rostov said. "She hauls those panels like sheets of paper. Good thing that I have a healthy ego or I would have an inferiority complex by now."

"I think you'll manage," Trip snorted. "Good job, both of you."

Turning to leave, he almost bumped into Hoshi.

"Hey, what are you doing in our dirty hideout?"

"I've just finished checking the new communication channels for the Admiral's office, but I need one of your engineers. There are a few amps that still need to be calibrated."

"Know what? I'll do that myself," Trip said. "Lets go."

"Getting bored?" Hoshi asked with a smile.

"Not really, but we have so many things at hand at the moment, it would take me longer to find an engineer who's available than just doing it myself. And besides, I can wrangle some details out of you."

"Details?"

"What do you guys want for your wedding? A Japanese ceremony or a western style one?"

"Since it is a _re'nai,_ we decided on a western style wedding. But I'll be wearing a _tsunokakushi_ and we'll have a sake ceremony at the reception."

"Erm, ok, I didn't understand half of it," Trip snorted.

" _Re'nai_ means this isn't an arranged wedding," she explained. "And a _tsunokakushi_ is a traditional piece of head gear."

"Are your folks going to come out here?" Trip asked, while fishing the small calibrator from his pocket.

"Even if we could arrange it on such short notice they wouldn't come. They've hardly ever been outside Japan. They're not really up to a week of space travel. We've spoken with them and we agreed to repeat the sake ceremony whenever we can visit them."

Trip snickered.

"For a people, who can't hold much liquor, a sake ceremony sounds somewhat entertaining."

"We sip it, Trip," she said with an eye-roll. "We don't get ourselves hogwashly bladdered."

Trip laughed out loud.

"Did you notice that you start to sound like Malcolm sometimes?"

"Says the man, who clasps his hands behind his back and raises eyebrows," Hoshi snorted back.

"All done," he said and closed the panel after successfully calibrating the components. "Anything else you need?"

"No thanks, my job is done here, see you," she said and sauntered off after a small peck on his cheek.

=/\=

Gardner sat in the ready room of _Buran_ and waited for the call to come in. It had been as foreseeable as the amen in church.

"Minister," he said, when T'Pau's face appeared on the screen.

"Admiral," she answered and in true Vulcan style came straight to the point. "I was informed that Starfleet has requested the service records of twenty members of our fleet. I was not aware that Starfleet is recruiting Vulcans."

"We aren't, Minister. All those twenty people came to us and inquired about the possibility of continuing their service with Starfleet."

"Did they provide any explanation for this?" she asked and Gradner had the distinct feeling that she was sounding a bit hurt. Not that she would admit it, of course.

"I cannot speak for all of them, but I know the reasons for two of them. One wishes to join Starfleet for personal reasons and an engineer wants to join us because she shows a certain independence that is not appreciated in the Vulcan fleet, while we consider it a vital asset of a good officer."

Her reply sounded almost like a sigh to Gardner.

"It was inevitable," she explained. "Since the _Kir'Shara_ promotes a higher degree of individuality, it was to be expected that some individuals would no longer be content in our strict environment. I would not wish to stand in the way of their decision, but does Starfleet have the resources to provide an environment in which a Vulcan can serve?"

"You mean the need of priests and meditation facilities?"

"Among others," she answered vaguely.

"Assuming you allow us to commission these people, all but one will be stationed on the same ship, the _Buran_. To provide for their needs, a priest as well as a meditation chamber will be available. The future Captain of the ship – Malcolm Reed – is a close friend of Captain T'Pol and is quite knowledgeable about the needs of Vulcans. Rest assured Minister, these twenty people will be well catered for. And Captain T'Pol should be all the proof you need that a Vulcan can successfully serve in Starfleet."

"T'Pol is hardly representative for most Vulcans," T'Pau replied.

"That may be," Gardner agreed. "But if she can adapt to functioning in a human environment, it is only logical that others can, too."

"Indeed. We will not stand in the way of any members in the fleet, who wish to continue their service in Starfleet, but we need your assurance that Starfleet will not endeavor to actively recruit other Vulcans."

"You have our assurances Minister. We never approached any member of the Vulcan fleet, nor will we do so in the future. If, however, people of yours approach us of their own volition, we will try to make it possible."

"That is an acceptable compromise, Admiral. You shall receive the requested data within the day."

"Peace and Long Life, Minister."

"Live Long and Prosper, Admiral."

 


	22. One Heart, One Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a human wedding from a Vulcan's perspective...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what a ride it has been. It has been three years, since I started dabbling in fanfiction and a little over two years since I started this story. What started out as a series of chapters in answer to various word prompts evolved into a massive story.
> 
> Being a non-native English speaker, I couldn't have imagined that I would one day conclude some writing of these proportions in a foreign language. I couldn't have done that without the help of many people. First and foremost are the patient people over at the TriaxianSilk forum, who have put up with my – let's say – quirky character for over three years now and have helped me tremendously over the years. There are Linda, aadarshinah, WarpGirl, Cogito and Distracted, who all were beta-readers for my writings at several points in time. I cannot even begin to imagine what monumental job it must have been to proof-read the writing of someone, who grew up with the grammatical mess that is the German Language. Many a superfluous comma went the way of the dodo.
> 
> Then there are authors like Distracted, Alelou, HopefulRomantic, Transwarp, BlacknBlue,Psldl and many others, who provided inspiration by the shipload and a high standard to look up to. And let's not forget the many people, who took the time to leave reviews both on TriaxianSilk and FF net. Kudos to Author Penholder for his/her closet telepathic abilities – suggesting what I had planned a long time ago.
> 
> Yes, with this chapter the story is coming to a conclusion. A labour of love that I have tended to for over two years will finally be finished. But it's not the end of the journey, it's merely a stop along the road. Starting out as a little fluffy AU piece, this universe of mine has taken on a life of its own and it has grown bigger than one story. Look out for the Sequel "Darkness On The Edge Of Space" coming to a fanfiction site near you.
> 
> I want to thank all readers, who followed this story and made my day with their kind comments and reviews. Enjoy :-)

Gardner sat back in his chair looking quite pleased with himself. While he didn't understand, why Lorian's presence was so important, it was another job well done. Diverting the _Endurance_ was a logistical nightmare, one that included a cargo transfer bang smack in the middle of empty space, but – baring any technical mishaps - Captain Lorian would be just in time to be present at the wedding. If Lorian's crew performance reviews, particularly those of his chief engineer Kov were anything to go by, mechanical mishaps were unlikely though.

His glance fell on his new dress uniform. How the quartermaster had managed to procure one of the right size in such a short time remained a mystery, but equally mysterious was the fact how the crew of _Enterprise_ , in collaboration with the Vulcans, had managed to turn a dilapidated space station into a small city in space in just a few weeks.

 _Leave it to this lot to work the miracles,_ he thought and couldn't contain a smile. After Maxwell's death, which had left him with some monumentally big boots to fill, he soon had understood just why Max had been so enamored with this ship and its crew.

Being the crew of the first deep space exploration vessel – and therefore humanity's first impression for a lot of races - was a monumental enough task to get right, but on top of that they had fought a bloody war against the Xindi, had brought on peace between Tellarites, Andorians and Vulcans, had brought reformation to Earth's long-standing Vulcan allies and generally were always right there when a miracle was needed.

 _No wonder they get away with just about everything,_ Gardner mused and snorted with amusement.

There was no other ship in the fleet, where dating and quite a few other, more substantial relationship activities, were the norm rather than the exception. The captain and the chief engineer were married, although in some convoluted Vulcan traditional way, the tactical and communications officers were getting married soon and by performing both the ceremonies for these two officers as well as the wedding of Commodore Archer and Captain Hernandez, _Enterprise_ 's Vulcan captain was soon to be the one with Starfleet's record of most performed deep space marriage ceremonies. Who would have thought that five years ago.

And now he was about to separate them. Up to now the transfer of Malcolm Reed and Hoshi Sato to _Buran_ had been a mere Starfleet formality to him, not counting the little detail that both would break the records for achieving their new ranks in the shortest period of time. Having been invited to dine in the Tuckers' quarter last night had changed all that quite thoroughly. Seeing the four officers, which Shran had recently described as 'closer than an Andorian quad', made him realize just how close _Enterprise_ 's officers and the veteran crew were. Extended family summed it up quite nicely.

 _Aren't I breaking up the very soul of the ship? Wouldn't I destroy the very reason for their success?_ Gardner sighed.

But what could he do? There was nobody else even remotely as experienced as Malcolm Reed, needed even more so now that _Buran_ would become the first Starfleet vessel with a substantial part of the crew being non-humans. And even if there were other candidates, the bean-counters at BuPers would never let him get away with keeping so much experience concentrated on one ship when it was desperately needed elsewhere. Well at least they were about to be assigned to the same fleet, so their ships would rarely be far from each other.

His thoughts were interrupted, when the door chime announced a visitor.

"Come."

The door opened and revealed Lt. Hoshi Sato. She was carrying several PADDs.

"The upgrades to communications are completed, you have now full access to all Starfleet communication channels," she said and Gardner took the PADDs with a smile.

"That was quick, Lieutenant, but then – why should I be surprised."

"Having the chief engineer do the more complex calibrations himself helps speeding up the process," she said.

"Sure does," he agreed and indicated that she should sit. "I have a question to ask, Lieutenant and I want you to know that you can speak freely."

"OK," she answered and by the way she dragged it out slightly, he knew that she wasn't sure about what was coming.

"Until yesterday the transfer of you and Commander Reed was a mere formality, but I admit after experiencing first-hand, how closely knit the crew of _Enterprise_ is..."

"You're not sure whether it is a good idea to separate us," she finished the sentence for him.

"The Vulcans didn't exaggerate when they said you have some latent telepathic abilities," Gardner said with a smile.

"No they didn't," Hoshi agreed. "But I didn't need telepathic abilities for that. We've known that Malcolm was to take over the _Buran_ since Captain Archer left the ship and more than once we asked ourselves if our departure wouldn't destroy what makes this crew so successful."

Gardner nodded knowingly and waited for further explanation.

"We are realistic enough to know that we're needed elsewhere. I've trained all my subordinates to the best of my abilities and Malcolm's second Lt. Taylor can – I quote – 'put a round in a flea's ass at two hundred meters', so there's no reason for us to hog those positions any longer, when a second ship can benefit from our experience."

Gardner laughed. He would recognize that quote any time.

"I should have known that you lot had seen that movie."

"I had my first date with Malcolm that day," she said.

 _That's a blissfully happy grin if I ever saw one,_ Gardner thought about the young woman's smile. _God help you keeping that through the war._

"So you think the crew will still perform as exemplary?" Gardner asked.

"No doubt," Hoshi insisted. "The reason why this crew is so good is neither Malcolm nor me. It's the spirit of Commodore Archers years as Captain and don't underestimated the inspirational power of Trip and T'Pol. Now if Starfleet were to separate these two..."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant," Gardner quickly interrupted. "The Vulcans never tire of letting us know that this is not an option. And don't worry, you'll still be able to see your friends. _Buran_ will serve in the same fleet, so it will rarely be far from _Enterprise_."

"I like the sound of that, Admiral."

"Thought so," Gardner said. "Dismissed, Lieutenant. I'm sure you still have enough preparations to do for the big day."

=/\=

Terval checked his robes to make sure they were not disheveled in any way. Even though he was still unsure about and didn't quite understand his inclusion in the human ritual, Amanda had done her best to relay all pertinent information.

Apparently he was appointed to a four man detail consisting of Commander Tucker as the 'best man', while Lt. Taylor, Lorian and himself would serve as 'Ushers'. While those roles were largely of a ceremonial nature, his own inclusion in the ritual had caused some confusion for him, considering that he had no personal connection of any kind to Commander Malcolm Reed, but obviously his membership in _krei_ Charles and T'Pol's clan was enough to elevate him to a sufficiently trustworthy status that warranted his inclusion in the ceremony. Once again he was reminded that his quest to understand humans was only just beginning.

To the best of his knowledge, the wedding ceremony for Commander Reed and Lieutenant Sato was about to last almost three days. Owing to the diverse nature of _Enterprise_ 's crew the elaborate festivities were to be a mixture of several regional traditions from different parts of Earth. Not all of them were really understandable, much less logical. Commander Tuckers department had spent days to replicate porcelain and created plates, cups and other dishes from it, only for a sizable portion of it being meant to be destroyed today, on the evening before the ceremony.

One of the cargo ships had brought a massive wooden log, which according to the human database was meant to be cut in half by the newly-weds with a primitive muscle operated device in a bid to determine, who would be 'wearing the pants' in the household. He found that truly confusing since both Commander Reed and Lieutenant Sato wore such a garment most of the time.

Amanda's arrival cut his mental ruminations short. Obviously the time for the ritual destruction of the tableware had come.

=/\=

"Who came up with that idea?" Jon asked laughingly and grabbed a plate from the stack. After being lobbed into the air it came crashing down on the floor, where it joined a growing pile of shattered dishes.

"Who do you think?" Hoshi said with a smile. "Trip and Malcolm's beer suppliers – the Germans. It is meant to scare evil spirits away."

"Too bad we don't have any kids on the ship. They would have a field day," Erika added and chucked a cup into the air.

"Hey, don't need no kids to have fun," Trip said and threw a plate over his shoulder. With a loud noise it disintegrated on the wall.

"I don't envy whoever has to clean up," Jon snickered.

"That'll be us," Malcolm said.

"You – as in you and Hoshi?" Jon asked.

"Yes," Malcolm said. "All part of the ritual. After scaring the spirits away we have to prove that we can work together."

"Sounds fun," Erika said with a smile and walked off arm-in-arm with Jon to mingle with the crowd.

=/\=

"While not as destructive as the demolition of tableware, this ritual seems equally confusing," Terval said while helping Lorian to place the heavy wooden log into a sawing horse. "Is it also meant to scare away mythical spirits?"

"No," Lorian answered. "Both traditions originate from a region called Germany, a region with an abundance of quaint traditions. They often have symbolic value. The cleaning up of the broken dishes was the symbolic 'first mess' to cope with together, while the sawing of the log will be the first taxing task they have to complete after being officially wed. After the task has been completed, the crowd will judge the amount of sawdust having fallen on each side. The greater amount is meant to show which spouse will be the dominant in the marriage."

"So one could say that these symbolic situation make sure that the 'first mess' they encounter and the first taxing task are not a real crisis?"

"I think so," Lorian said, while placing the big two-man hacksaw against the log. "In a way it even makes sense, although other rituals have less symbolic importance."

"There are more?"

"Yes, there will be a sake ceremony at the reception to honor Lieutenant Sato's culture and Commander Reed will have to free his bride after a ritual abduction."

Terval looked at Lorian in disbelief. "A ritual abduction?"

"A tradition understood to come from a region called Russia. Between the main ceremony and the reception, the bride is 'abducted' by friends or family and the groom has to drink an alcoholic beverage from one of her shoes."

"That is unsanitary," Terval noted.

"True," Lorian agreed. "Which is why not an actual shoe is used, but a boot-shaped glass which presents its own challenge.

"A challenge?"

"The glass will be filled with beer and the toe of the boot will have to be positioned in a certain manner or the groom will shower himself with the beverage. Of course this fact is not made known to him beforehand."

"It appears to me that some of these rituals are designed for the amusement of the audience. Most guests appeared quite entertained by the destruction of the dishes yesterday."

"Amusement is a vital part of human marriage and they go to great lengths to elicit as many positive emotions as possible. Positive emotions are retained in human memory much longer than negative ones."

"Fascinating."

=/\=

The large conference hall of _Salem One_ was packed. The three Ushers had made sure that seating arrangements had been organized in an orderly manner. The attending Vulcans – mostly those who would go on to serve aboard _Buran_ were seated on the right side of the aisle, while the humans, wearing dress uniform, took up the left space and what was unoccupied on the Vulcan side.

T'Pol re-read the text again that was displayed on her PADD, making sure it was free of any religious references. With Malcolm being atheist and Hoshi of Shinto faith, any of the traditional Christian references would not be appropriate.

With a final glance she checked the audience. All were seated and ready to greet bride and groom. The groom – visibly nervous – stood before her, waiting for the bride to be given away. Since the father of Hoshi was in Japan, this task had fallen to Commodore Archer.

With a nod to Lieutenant Mayweather, T'Pol asked him to start the music and soon Felix Mendelsohn Bartholdy's "Wedding March" filled the room.

As the door opened a collective gasp could be heard, when Hoshi was led in by her former Captain. Wearing a traditional ornamental Kimono and head gear the petite officer looked spectacular, a fact that wasn't lost on her husband-to-be.

With an amused mental nudge through the bond T'Pol asked Trip to remind Malcolm of the importance of breathing.

Both Commodore Archer and Hoshi wore grins that could challenge Phlox when they slowly walked down the aisle.

"Delivery for you, Commander," Archer said with amusement as he put Hoshi's hand into the one of Malcolm, who was still too stunned to find any words.

Both bride and groom took a few moments to lovingly glance into each others eyes before they turned to look at T'Pol, who started her carefully rehearsed speech.

=/\=

"On This Day, the fourth day of March in the year 2156, we are here to witness and to celebrate the marriage of Commander Malcolm Stuart Reed and Lieutenant Hoshi Sato. More than just a ceremony, this is the most significant moment of human celebration and personal commitment. Let us join in their understanding that at this moment we hold in our hands the past and the future of man, the loveliness and responsibility of the human person."

"Marriage is not entered into lightly. We are concerned with more than just romance. It is something quite different from temporary relationships, which reach a peak quickly, then just as quickly subside. Marriage should be entered into reverently, or it is no marriage at all."

"Each marriage is unique and the relationships of the partners differ according to individual needs. But in any marriage, each of the individuals should find new strengths and capacities. Hoshi and Malcolm have resolved that they will come closer to the fulfillment of their goals by a marriage to each other."

Terval watched the proceedings from a place at the back of the audience. This had allowed him to take a seat next to Amanda without scandalizing any of the other Vulcans in attendance by the fact that Amanda's hand rested in his. So far _krei_ T'Pol's speech had revolved around abstract concepts, but to his astonishment he realized that some of the sentences could just as well be spoken at a Vulcan wedding.

"Marriage presents a possibility not only for gratification, but also for enrichment. Marriage should be a means for the development of those personal social values that we prize so highly: integrity, cooperation, self-respect and human dignity."

"This ceremony will not unite you in marriage; only the two of you can do that. If the relationship between two people, which is symbolized in our culture by the state of marriage, does not already exist between you, this ceremony will not create that relationship. The bond uniting you is the entire meaning. This ceremony is simply the public announcement of the existence of that bond."

"A good marriage is very many things; a good marriage is also a relationship of love. Essentially, to be in love means to have a deep sense of identification with another person. It is to live in the life of that person, feeling his or her joys and sorrows as if they were your own. And, when two people are truly in love, each is concerned with helping the other become what he or she ought to be. The husband wants to nourish the best qualities in his wife, and the wife wants to develop what is good in her husband."

Terval started to wonder if that which _krei_ T'Pol spoke about was a genuinely human ritual speech or if she had let her Vulcan heritage influence the speech. _The spear in the others heart is the spear in you own._ This Surakian teaching was nothing he would have expected to hear during a human marriage ceremony, but obviously the concept was not alien to them, considering that many of the humans seemed to agree with their Captain's speech.

"There should be a sharing of your lives; your lives should be a life together, there should also be spaces in your togetherness. Allow each other room and privacy to be individuals, with hearts and minds of your own. For only by being a whole person, can you have something to give to the person that you love. Each of you should keep the freedom of spirit that brought you to stand here today."

"It is our hope that your marriage will give you the strength and commitment to face all of life's adversities. Equally important, let us hope that it will enhance your sensitivity to all that is wondrous and beautiful. Your home should be a place to share the joys of life. Your home should also be a place where the pain and tragedies of life can be overcome. We hope that you will find there, a deep sense of security; security that comes as each of you learn to understand, to accept, and to forgive the other person, and as each of you learn to understand, accept, and to forgive yourselves as well."

"So, having considered alone and together this marriage, I now ask you Hoshi Sato, do you take this man to be your husband? Do you promise to love him and to comfort him, to honor him, and keep him in sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," the petite female answered and although not a strong telepath, Terval could easily sense the waves of positive emotions flooding the room. While a spoken commitment would not be necessary at a Vulcan ceremony, it seemed to have a profound effect on the humans. Many of the females had started to emit tears and he saw the wisdom of Amanda's explanation that in such circumstances it was not a sign of distress. By the subtle, yet visible confusion of some of the other Vulcan guests he could easily surmise that not all of them had been made aware of that fact.

"And I ask you Malcolm Stuart Reed, do you take this woman to be your wife? Do you promise to love her and comfort her, to honor her, and keep her in sickness and in health, in prosperity and adversity, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Then Hoshi, please say with me: I Hoshi take thee Malcolm to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and health, as long as we both shall live."

Terval closed his eyes while Hoshi repeated her part of the wedding vows. While the emotions that the humans in attendance emitted where far from negative or disturbing, the sheer amount and force of them took a few breathing exercises to handle. Opening his eyes again he saw that some of his fellow Vulcans were in the same predicament.

"And, you Malcolm, please say with me. I Malcolm, take thee Hoshi to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live."

Terval repeated his breathing exercise as the next wave of human emotions bombarded his mind. Being in touch-telepathic contact with Amanda only exacerbated the condition, but considering that Amanda had joined many other females in quiet sobbing he deemed it unwise to let go of her hand.

"Will the Best Man now please present the rings."

"Then Hoshi as you place this ring on Malcolm's finger, please say with me, 'With this ring, I thee wed, and join my life to yours.'"

"And Malcolm as you place this ring on Hoshi's finger, please say with me, 'With this ring, I thee wed, and join my life to yours.'"

After being presented the rings by _krei_ Charles, both humans had again repeated the words flawlessly and Terval had again resorted to his shallow form of meditation as every time a new barrage of emotions had tested his control.

"May these rings stand as a sign to you of your desire to live, to love, to create, and to build in your lives and the lives of those whom you touch, that ideal of perfection which is humanity."

"When the tide is low, and the rocks are painfully visible, may your love be the waters of the new tide. And, when the tide is high, give thanks to the spirit of life itself, and celebrate it."

"So, after witnessing your vows, by the honor and right bestowed upon me as a Captain of naval and space faring tradition, I now pronounce that you are husband and wife. Malcolm Reed, you may now kiss the bride."

This time Terval had been unprepared. Not only came another emotional hit to his mind, accompanied by loud human cheering, but Amanda had obviously decided to see that as an invitation to place a similar sign of affection on his cheek. Having not yet progressed this far in their 'courtship', he was almost overwhelmed by the impact of such a gesture. Staggering half a step in Amanda's direction before he could compose himself, he felt how she quickly slung an arm around his waist to steady him. Looking at her he was greeted by a teary smile and by impulse he put two fingers to her face and gently wiped the tears away.

=/\=

Gardner came out of the conference hall, when most others had already left and the loud rhythmic cheering was a sure sign that the log sawing was already in in full swing.

"Come on, Commander, she's winning," he called out with a chuckle, seeing that the pile of sawdust on Hoshi's side was significantly bigger. Of course, having seen the tool beforehand, he knew that the shape of the saw's teeth made that particular result a foregone conclusion. Considering that Malcolm Reed was grinning like an idiot all the time, Gardner decided that the usually so reserved Brit didn't give a flying expletive about it.

After almost half an hour the log finally fell apart leaving the two 'combatants' covered in sawdust and the female population in raucous celebration about Hoshi's 'victory'.

Gardner lifted his arms to get the crowd's attention and the pandemonium slowly subsided.

"Since a change of clothing is now inevitable, I'd say we give the newly-weds some time for a change of clothes. Since my wedding present requires a certain attire, I'd say you change into a dress uniform. You, Mr. Reed might want to bring a spare, too."

The crowd giggled, causing Malcolm to glance at Trip with suspicion.

Seeing that Malcolm and Hoshi turned to walk to their respective cabins, Gardner called them back.

"While we were having the ceremony a 'band of thugs' from the _Endurance_ , led by some Yuichi Sato, raided your respective quarters. Word has it that the loot was deposited in the Captains quarters on _Buran,_ so you might want to start looking there."

=/\=

"Let's take my spare uniform with us, Mrs. Sato-Reed," Malcolm said gleefully, after releasing her from a long passionate kiss in their new honeymoon suite. "Whatever misfortune is to befall me, I'm bloody sure that Trip has something to do with it, so he can just as well let me change in his cabin."

Built almost exactly the same as the Tucker domicile on _Enterprise_ except for the extra beam that had held the knocked out bulkhead on the older ship _,_ it was obvious that the captains quarters on _Buran_ had been built with a married or at least spoken for Captain in mind.

To Malcolm's amusement even a wooden keg of beer was mounted at the wall, mirroring the same arrangement in the Tucker cabin, except that it had a richly ornamented card attached to it. Malcolm took a look.

_Liebe Hoshi, lieber Malcolm,_

_Wir wünschen Euch alles Gute zu Eurer Vermählung und möchten Euch in diesem Sinne unsere allerherzlichsten Glückwünsche übermitteln._

_Bleibt stets so glücklich und verliebt, wie am heutigen Tag und denkt immer daran:_

" _In der Ehe muss man sich manchmal streiten, nur so erfährt man mehr voneinander."_

_Alles Gute Euch beiden,_

_Mattes & Kriegel, Königlicher Bierlieferant, NX-01 Enterprise._

"Looks like a case for a linguist," Malcolm said and handed the card over to Hoshi.

"Dear Hoshi, dear Malcolm. We wish you all the best for your marriage and we wish to express our heart-felt congratulations. May you always be in love and as happy as today, and never forget: In marriage you have to fight from time to time. That's the only way to learn more about each other. All the best for both of you. Signed: Mattes & Kriegel, Royal Beer Supplier, NX-01 _Enterprise_."

"I think I've just been offered a supplier contract," Malcolm laughed and led Hoshi out of the room back to the station, where by now the hall should have been reconfigured for the reception.

=/\=

Strolling into the spacious hall Hoshi and Malcolm were greeted with the whole audience lined up in dress uniform and to their surprise, even most of the Vulcans were in Starfleet dress. It looked as if Gardner had been busy handing out commissions while they had taken over their new domicile on _Buran_.

"Attention to orders," Gardner barked, once Hoshi and Malcolm had taken their place left and right of Trip and T'Pol.

"By order SFC-857603 of Starfleet Command, Lieutenant Hoshi Sato-Reed is promoted to Lieutenant-Commander and assigned duty as First Officer and Chief Communications Officer aboard NX-07 _Buran_."

To loud cheers of the crew Hoshi walked over to Gardner to receive her new rank insignia. To Malcolm's pleasant surprise, even the newly minted Vulcan Starfleet members joined the standing ovation, although they didn't join the whoops and cheers. But seeing that they were truly more flexible than the usual Vulcan contingent bade well for the tasks ahead. Had someone told him almost five years ago that he would once command a ship that was built by a former enemy and the crew of which would include more than 30 aliens, he would have contacted Harris to have the person delivered to the loony bin.

"By order SFC-857602 of Starfleet Command, Commander Malcolm Reed is promoted to the rank of Captain and assigned command of the NX-07 _Buran_."

Malcolm walked over and received the congratulations of Gardner for his new rank. While he was still concentrating on Gardner's words, he missed how two hooded figures dragged Hoshi into an adjoining room.

Getting back to the crowd Malcolm noticed the absence of Hoshi and judging by the difficulties that most of the crew, including Gardner, had to contain their laughter, they all knew what was going on. All except himself of course.

"Ok, Trip, where's Hoshi?"

Without answering Trip handed him his communicator.

"This is Reed. Where's my wife?" Malcolm demanded into the device.

"Your wife is under our care," a voice replied and Malcolm immediately noticed the accent. "You will be brought something and you'll know what to do. Your wife will not be harmed as long as you comply."

"Royal my arse," Malcolm said, but couldn't fight a chuckle. From the back of the audience, he saw Taylor, newly minted Lieutenant-Commander and his designated successor on _Enterprise_ , approach with a boot-shaped glass full of beer. Judging by the size it was at least a liter.

Taking the object from Taylor he realized the flaw in his calculation. Judging by the weight it was at least two liters. Quietly pondering his options he started to drink from the oversize glass. Malcolm soon realized that he had made a mistake. He had surmised that, had he pointed the foot of the boot downwards, he would have to bend over like a limbo dancer to empty it, but by pointing it up, he had set himself up for a pressure refueling.

True to the expectations of the giggling crowd, the beer soon came rushing out in a powerful wave, showering the newly minted captain. Now Gardner's warning to bring a spare uniform made sense. With an amusedly lifted eyebrow T'Pol handed him a big towel and Malcolm rubbed his hair dry, accepting the crew's _Schadenfreude_ benevolently. Hanging the towel around his neck, he reached for the communicator.

"Mattes, Kriegel, bring me my wife on the double!"

Grinning like Cheshire cats the two Germans came into the hall accompanied by a clearly amused Hoshi.

"Get a shower in our cabin," Trip offered still chuckling. "Just leave the dirty uniform in the laundry basket."

=/\=

Terval felt another unusual sensation. He was restless and inexplicably unsure of himself. According to his research of human marriage customs the wedding dance was to commence upon the return of Captain Reed. First the married couple was to dance alone, while later being joined by other couples from the audience.

Having researched the necessary movements and human music with _krei_ T'Pol left him in no doubt that he was able to perform the movements adequately, but he was very unsure about how fellow Vulcans would react to this open display of affection. _Krei_ Charles had spent a significant amount of time to explain that the Vulcans in attendance were much more open-minded than most of his species, but that had not entirely alleviated his insecurity, because none of them were yet aware of his relationship with a human woman, except for T'Len, who had hinted that she was aware of his attraction to Amanda.

Casting a glance at Amanda, he saw what _krei_ Charles had once described as 'longing', the wish for something that one cannot attain. Obviously she didn't expect to be able to participate in the dance and he knew her well enough that she would never ask his permission to be allowed to dance with a different partner, something - he realized - would be an exceedingly disagreeable thought.

The opening door interrupted his musings and Captain Reed entered with newly restored impeccable appearance. As soon as he had returned to the side of his wife the music started to play and Terval carefully observed the correct gesture to ask a female for a dance. I appeared that one was to bow slightly, swinging one arm, so that the open hand ended up pointing at the free space that was used for the dance.

Feeling a familiar rush of emotions, he knew that Amanda was emotionally impacted by the sight. She had rarely let go of his hand all evening. While he had managed to keep that fact out of sight for fellow Vulcans, going ahead with his plan would mean that they would all be aware of his relationship soon.

He quietly observed the newly-weds on the dance floor and while the music had a strangely soothing influence on him, he could almost sense the passion between the two humans. The way they smiled at each other, the way their eyes never lost contact made him realize that he had the chance to experience a lifetime of something that most Vulcans would never experience – the burning passion of a human in love. Yes, he decided, this was worth any hardship they would encounter in their unusual union. The path would be a hard and long one, but he was determined to travel it.

The music changed to something called 'a waltz' and he observed Charles and T'Pol joining in together with many other couples.

"May I have this dance, Amanda," he said and performed the necessary movement. Seeing tears well up in her eyes almost instantly, he knew he had done the right thing. The monumental rush of joy and affection that flooded his mind as soon as they took up the close customary pose told him he had done well.

As he twirled a blissfully happy Amanda around the dance floor he saw something that almost made him forget the next step. Not very far from them Captain Savok and Lieutenant Commander T'Len had joined the dance. Keeping a much lighter touch than most of the couples around them and still moving less secure than those who were familiar with the required sequence of moves, they nonetheless had joined the ritual. For the first time in his life Terval felt as if his species was really progressing and it filled his mind with renewed hope that one day he could settle on Vulcan or Earth living with his desired mate without facing prejudice.

Continuing his dance with Amanda his glance once in a while fell on _krei_ T'Pol, her mate and the newly-weds as they danced, celebrating love and life.


End file.
